


Horizons

by ByTheDawn



Series: Beyond Neverland [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 48,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ByTheDawn/pseuds/ByTheDawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequal to 'The Demons From Our Past' and 'Women of Steel', 'Horizons' is the conclusion to the series which brought together Regina Mills and Emma Swan after returning home from Neverland. As more and more of the women's history is revealed, it becomes apparent that not everything is forgiven easily, least of all by themselves. Can the women keep their eyes on the horizon where happy ever after looms, or will they run ashore on broken dreams and past regrets?</p><p>(Mind the updated tags that came with chapter 4!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Learning To Love Again

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one written to Mat Kearney's 'Learning to Love Again'.

Laying silently on her side, Regina watched Emma’s chest rise and fall as her breath ghosted over her face ever so slightly. The sun had set long ago, but Regina hadn’t paid attention to it, nor could she bring herself to wake Emma, despite the numbness in the arm she was laying on. The woman had fallen into such a deep sleep that she had barely moved all through the hours. Regina had lain there in the stillness, observing her lover. It was such a rare opportunity to get to do this, to be so close to Emma and not have to look away. She had just lain here on her side, arm curled under her head, eyes tracing every curve of the parts of Emma’s body exposed to her, chasing every line on her smooth but slowly aging face, finding every pale freckle and remnant of zits from times long past. She watched as usually straightened hair dried into messy curls, and revelled in every micro expression that graced Emma’s features. Whatever Emma was dreaming about, it was positive, or neutral at worst, and so Regina just lay there, her dried and bare body just inches from Emma’s, covered by warm blankets and sheltered by the dark. 

When Emma finally stirred, Regina smiled involuntarily, reaching out to run the back of her fingers over a warm cheek. Emma tilted her head into her reflexively and groaned as her mind climbed to consciousness. Regina found it adorable how terrible Emma was at waking up from slumber where Regina was always up before the sound of the alarm clock and had not even minded getting up whenever Henry had cried as a baby. Sure, it had tired her out and worn her down, but she had at least managed to awake relatively consciously every time. She wondered how Emma would have fared.

Green eyes opened to a crack and a wet tongue slid out to wet dry lips. Emma blinked and shut her eyes again, scooting closer to Regina, who welcomed her into her arms, running short nail gently over a now exposed bare back. Emma made a sound that was dangerously close to a purr and Regina chuckled quietly, pressing a kiss to mushed blonde hair.

“What time is it?” Emma asked groggily, sliding her own arm under Regina’s and then around her back, attempting to close the gap between them as their legs intertwined. Regina closed her eyes in the face of her overwhelming emotions. How long had she longed for someone to cling to her so instinctively? How long had she been sure it would never happen? She pressed another kiss in Emma’s hair, lingering for a few seconds before twisting her protesting body enough to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock. 

“It’s a little past eight PM.” She answered softy. Emma hummed in acknowledgement and settled into her more comfortably as she moved back into the previous position. Regina marvelled at the fact that nearly four hours had passed since they had lain down. If anyone had asked her, she would have told them a little over an hour had passed—at best. It took a few more seconds for Emma’s mind to catch up, but then she launched up like a spring.

“Eight?! You’re joking!” She almost cried out, eyes wide. “Wait—you watched me sleep for like… four hours? Regina that is so…” Emma trailed off as Regina’s face fell in the avalanche of Emma’s onslaught. Regina really hadn’t meant to stare at her for this long… it had just… happened. She hadn’t wanted to move away, and she hadn’t wanted to wake Emma either; so she had just waited for the blonde to awake. Seeing the impact of her outburst, Emma—who didn’t even bother covering up her now exposed chest—softened her face. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I was just… no one’s ever, you know, done that. With me. Watching me, watching _over_ me? It’s… I like it.” Emma finished, cupping Regina’s chin to bring her eyes up. Regina smiled a bit weakly, hating how easy her confidence fell in the face of any possible rejection from Emma. Although still looking half asleep, Emma seemed to catch on as well. “Thank you.”

“For watching you sleep for four hours?” Regina countered the honest expression with sass she could not keep out of her voice; old defensive mechanisms often died slow and with great difficulty, and this was one of them. In the face of her insecurities, she fell back on old habits. Emma rolled her eyes, seeing right through her without difficulty.

“ _No…_ ” Emma stressed, “For caring enough to do it.” She added, and Regina felt the tightness around her chest relax enough for her to take a steadying breath. Reigning herself in, she found herself smiling a genuine smile and reached out for Emma, who fell into her arms easily. Laying side by side, Regina tugged a strand of hair behind Emma’s ear and watched her smile at her with an unguarded expression that Regina revelled in.

“You are beautiful.” Regina admitted and Emma blushed in the darkness. This time, she did not hide, though. Having learned her lesson from the first time Regina had told her, she simply grinned.

“Thanks…” 

“How are you feeling?” Regina pressed softly, fingers slipping down the soft skin of Emma’s arm until she could interlace their fingers. Emma shrugged, her face instantly becoming more guarded. Regina understood the instinctual reaction to put up walls in the face of one’s emotions and allowed Emma the detachment she needed, simply squeezing her hand once in support.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Emma. I simply wanted to give you the chance to, if you so desire.” She offered and Emma nodded with a terse smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I just wish things were easier somehow. I never thought I’d say this, but I almost wish that I could go back to just worrying about having to explain that I took a girl home with me. No, now the whole same sex thing seems to be a non-issue but I have to explain to my parents that I am sexually and emotionally involved with the Evil Queen.” Emma said with a groan, and Regina laughed, despite the pang of guilt.

“Oh my dear, it’s much worse than that. You are involved with your mother’s step-mother. More so, your mother betrayed my trust when she was still a child and led to the death of the man I loved. In retaliation, I did everything I could to make her life a living hell, including placing a curse on her and her husband that forced them to give you up. Because of this, you grew up not where you have always belonged—at the side of your parents—but moving from foster home to foster home, spiralling until you ended up in jail, forcing you to give up your new-born son, whom I then raised as my own, unaware of his family line.” Regina let go of Emma’s hand as she spoke. She hadn’t meant to bring up one of her biggest regrets and insecurities, but here it was, and she did not want to stop it from coming out of her mouth. There were things—important things—Emma and her constantly avoided, and this was one of them. Still, she had to close her eyes half way through, as she could not bear the look on Emma’s face—a face so close to her that she felt she was betraying their love by even bringing this up.

Emma was silent for a moment, and she didn’t reach out. Regina felt her heart pounding, her throat constricting, and fears of rejection bubbling towards the surface once more. Yet, things were as they were—her past a muddled mess of bad choices which had caused nothing but pain to the woman who had well and truly captured her heart. 

“I thought you had no regrets?” Emma asked softly, and then her hand was back, running up Regina’s arm until she could cup her face. 

“I don’t.” Regina admitted softly, struggling to find the courage to open her eyes, because the dark of her sealed eyelids was conjuring forth images far worse than reality could possibly provide. She swallowed. 

“I don’t regret what I did. What I told Peter Pan was the truth—it got me Henry, and for him, I would do anything. I also have no regret because I cannot undo what has happened. All I can do is carry the burden of my deeds. I may have no regret, but I do feel the guilt, weighing down on me like the weight of the heavens. I feel guilt over everyone I have hurt and the longer I am with you, the more I wish to undo some of that damage.” Regina finally opened her eyes to find a tearful Emma watching her with an undecipherable expression. It wasn’t a negative one, however, so she swallowed and managed to croak out the thing that she had been holding in for months now.

“I am so sorry I cost you your childhood with your parents that—” She was cut off by Emma’s lips on her, warm and a little forceful, urging her to be quiet. She wanted to pull away, but the desire was drowned out by the redemption offered in a single kiss placed upon her lips in deep darkness that obscured everything beyond a curtain of blonde. Emma pulled away and lay down even closer to her if at all possible. Every breath ghosted over her mouth now, and their noses touched whenever one of them shifted. Regina didn’t know what to say or how to act; this limbo after a single kiss with no explanation was scarier than coming out and speaking the words.

“I have a million and one things I regret in my life. Not being able to grow up with my parents is one of those things. I was never angry with you for that, though. Although I wanted to, I wasn’t ever angry with my parents for that either. I grew up on the fairy tales written about you all; not so much at home—whenever I had one—but I had a teacher a lot like Mary Margaret once, who gave me fairy tale books to read, one at a time, until I had read the whole series. I grew up with Evil Queens—” Emma’s arm wrapped around her and pulled her to her a bit more, just to soften the blow. In the silence of the dark room, Emma’s soft voice continued on, hurrying to make her point, as Regina grew more and more uncomfortable—and guilt-ridden.

“…and good princesses and I learned that the world was black and write, good and evil, and I was mad at my parents—my real parents—because they had given me up. Yet, when I found out who my parents were, I realized I had never been mad at _them_ , I had been mad at their circumstances. No, Regina, wait. Don’t go. I know what you’re thinking just… let me finish. I suck at this, so I take forever. Give me time. Please.”

Regina, who had heard just about all she could take right now, settled back down, laying a little further from Emma, but Emma would have none of it. She once again closed in on the brunette and wrapped the arm she had previously wrapped around her in a vice-like grip to keep her in the bed around her in a much softer way. 

“When I had to give up Henry, I thought about my parents a lot, and I wondered if my mother had felt the way I did—full of shame and guilt, and just… awful. When I met Mary Margaret and found out she hadn’t because of the curse, I was grateful for that, although I know she is struggling with it now. I—God, I’m sorry, I’m trying to make a point okay? I’ll get there…” Emma scoffed at herself and instinctively, Regina reached out pressed the flat of her hand gently against Emma’s cheek for a moment.

“Take your time,” she whispered. Emma smiled weakly.

“Okay, so, point. You got hurt, very hurt, and you did something terrible—not judging, just… you know… it got pretty bad. But… and I know I don’t have all the information and all, but… I don’t think you would have reacted the way you did if it wasn’t for everything that had already happened. I think you grew up in a horrible home, and then you were forced to marry against your will and then Daniel… I just… The point is that I realize the world isn’t black and white, good and evil. Everything is a shade of grey, made up of everything that came before it and you got a crappy lot in life. And so did I, but I don’t blame you for that any more than I blame my parents. We were all caught in the circumstances and—you’re right—it got us Henry. And now it got me you. And I don’t care what Mary Margaret thinks about that because I love you and I meant it when I said I forgive you for what happened. Thank you for saying sorry—it means a lot—but you can let go of that guilt, as least as far as I’m concerned. I just want you to love me now, and for me to love you. I want to raise Henry with you, like a family, and you know—have our shot at a happy ending. Together. And now I need you to stop me from talking, because I’m making a fool of myself and I feel like a complete idiot because I should have just said ‘thank you for taking responsibility for what you did, but it wasn’t your fault and in the end it all worked out’, and left it at that—”

This time it was Regina’s turn to mercifully cut off Emma’s speech with a forceful kiss. Emma’s voice died out under the soft press of her lips and Regina cupped her face again, pressing the two of them together tightly as she gave up trying to dissect the swirl of emotions inside her chest. The only ones she could easily pick out were relief and gratitude, everything else was a huge, confusing, blur built up over many, many years and collapsing under the weight of forgiveness. Emma hummed in the kiss, and Regina let her hand slide down to pull her tightly against her, revelling in the feeling of soft and warm skin against hers. Emma’s hand traced patterns on her back, and Regina lost herself in a an unhurried kiss that never escalated into sexual. It was a nice change of pace for them, and reaffirmed the rightness of them together.

They kissed for several long moments, and then broke apart with a shared smile, resting together a little longer, breathing in each other’s exhaled breaths until Emma’s stomach growled loudly in the stillness, fracturing the moment and causing a laugh to escape both women.

“I think at least one of us is hungry” Regina said with a smirked and Emma grinned sheepishly.

“That would be me. I would give an arm and a leg for a good burger right now. Would it be weird to order Granny’s from your place?” Emma asked and Regina smirked. That was never going to happen. Real food—the best food—was made at home, with fresh ingredients.

“Why don’t I make you a burger, my dear?” She offered and Emma’s eyes widened. 

“You would do that?” She asked incredulously, and it took Regina a moment to realize she wasn’t actually joking—that Emma was truly in awe with her offer to make her a burger. Regina fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“I had heard that the way to a lover’s heart was through their stomach, but this is a bit much. Yes, I will make you a burger, and I will have you know that although Henry will never admit this in front of Granny Lucas, he is adamant mine are better than hers. Now, get dressed and I’ll make you the best burger you have ever tasted.” Regina chastised with a grin on her face. 

In a move that reminded Regina so much of Henry she could not fight the smile that overtook her, Emma pulled away and bounded off of the bed in such a hurry, she almost fell flat on her face. She was half way into her underwear before calling out ‘I’m okay’, and by the time Regina had stepped out of bed, Emma had already wiggled back into her jeans. Thankfully, it took Emma a short while to find her bra—it had disappeared under the bed—giving Regina time to slip on her own underwear, fasten her bra and slide into comfortable slacks and a dark red blouse that she fastened as Emma slid her shirt over her head. On bare feet, both women headed out of the bedroom, Emma ahead of her, still as excited as a child on Christmas morning with the promised burger in mind.

Regina loved seeing this side of Emma; care-free, a tad childish, and completely unguarded. It was a rare sight, and Regina appreciated the opportunity to see it. Emma slid onto a seat at the kitchen counter as Regina headed to the freezer, taking out two carefully wrapped packages of previously made dough. She unwrapped them, placed them in the microwave and set it to defrost before turning on the oven. As Emma watched, she pulled a few potatoes from a container in the storage closet and begun to peel them as Emma watched, completely spellbound. Regina handled the potatoes expertly, and had them cut into thin fries, oiled up, and in a baking tray with dried rosemary and salt before the microwave pinged to indicate the dough was defrosted. Regina put the tray into the oven and took out the balls of dough. She threw a little flour on the kitchen counter before her and rolled the balls through it, kneading both separately to get a little air back into them before rolling them into puffy balls again and placing them in the oven on half a sheet of baking paper. All the while, Emma hadn’t said a word, just watched her work the ingredients.

“Emma, honey, you are looking like you have never seen someone cook a meal.” Regina chastised completely without malice. While the experience was unfamiliar, it was certainly not unwelcome to be watched and appreciated for her kitchen skills—Regina prided herself on those, after all. 

“I haven’t, really, not like this.” Emma admitted. “It’s kind of hot.” She added and Regina glared at her.

“Mind out of the gutter, Miss Swan.” She sassed, but Emma just grinned wildly as Regina took out a packet of ground beef from the fridge—meat that she had planned to use in tomorrow’s lasagne—and unwrapped the paper the butcher had carefully folded it in. “Besides, I thought you were hungry?” She asked.

“I am, the two don’t interfere with each other.” Emma countered easily, and now Regina did not fight the eye roll that Emma brought forth in her. Instead of replying, she scooped half of the meat into a mixing bowl, added a variety of herbs and spices to it, and chopped up a small onion with such skill, Emma uttered a tiny ‘wow’ under her breath. She added the finely chopped vegetable to the meat before adding an egg and a measure of bread crumbs. She carefully took off her jewellery before digging into the mixture. In the end, she ended up with two beautiful paddies, ready to be cooked in the pan already set out on the fire with a small dash of olive oil in it.

Emma had lowered her head onto her hands and was watching her cook with such an expression of blissful love, Regina blushed. She wasn’t used to quite this level of attention focussed on her; Henry watched her cook sometimes but that was always more with quiet annoyance at his meal not being ready yet. This was completely different, and she hoped she never got used to it. 

Cutting up a few mushrooms and another onion, she threw them in the pan first, letting them simmer as she tossed the fries and turned over the buns. Closing the oven again, she added the patties to the pan before cleaning off the counter and setting out two plates. On a chopping board, she cut up half a tomato, cut off some cucumber slices, cut up pickles and washed off two leaves of lettuce. Setting all of this aside, she turned the patties, tossed the onion rings and mushrooms, and set the pan down again as she pulled the buns from the oven. The routine in cooking came so easily to her, she quirked an eyebrow at Emma’s bemused and slightly baffled expression.

“I am nothing if not organized.” She said in her defence and Emma grinned widely. 

“Being Mayor must have suited you well.” Emma answered and Regina nodded. 

“It came easily and I enjoyed it very much,” she admitted and sighed. She missed being Mayor—missed being useful. Spending so much time at home where she only got to show off her skills on very rare occasions felt like a waste of her abilities. Yet, there was nothing she could do now. Mary Margaret was aware of Regina’s affair with her daughter, and she would sure be less inclined to give Regina any responsibilities in ensuring the welfare of the town than more so. Regina had resigned herself to the fact that she would most likely only ever rule over her own home, but it did not stop her from hoping the situation would ever change.

Preparing the meal took only a few more minutes. She inquired about the sauces Emma would like with her meal and ended up setting out every single one she owned because Emma’s list included almost every one of them and even some she did not have. Emma assured her the ones she did have would do just fine, and Regina groaned. She really hadn’t felt bad for not owning a bottle of Texas Rib sauce—especially because she was serving burgers, not ribs.

In the end, she put up a fluffy hot bun with lettuce, a juicy patty, tomatoes, cucumber, pickles, onion rings, and mushrooms, and a healthy serving of fries. By the time she put the cap of the bun on the heavily topped lower half, Emma was bouncing on her chair. 

“God, Regina… this smells so good!” The blonde complimented before she had even gotten her hands on the food in question. Regina smiled happily, very pleased with herself for being able to provide the desired meal to her partner. 

“Dig in, please. It’s best when just put up. Normally I would give you a knife and fork but I am aware burgers are to be eaten from the hand so go right ahead.” Regina said, taking a knife to her bun all the same, cutting it into quarters for easy consumption. Emma had no such desire. She loaded up the bun with sauces and took it into both her hands. Opening her mouth wide, she dug her teeth into the crunchy bread and bit down with a sultry moan that did things to Regina she had no intention of admitting to the Sheriff sitting across from her in the kitchen. She secretly watched as Emma’s eyes closed and she chewed happily, letting the food travel through her mouth to hit all her taste buds. Regina noted how similarly Emma reacted to good food and good sex, and grinned, hiding the expression by taking a much smaller bite. 

“Fuck, this is fantastic!” Emma sputtered around a half full mouth of food. Regina inwardly smirked at herself for not wanting to correct her companion on her table manners as she watched her enjoy the meal put out for her with such unabashed enthusiasm. 

“You have forever spoiled me for burgers. This is like… heaven on a bun, except the bun is part of heaven.” Emma took another blissful bite as Regina dipped a fry in ketchup and nibbled on it with a grin that she simply could not wipe off of her face. Emma enjoying her food was simply too good not to watch, or feel touched by. It was such a wonderful display of open affection that Regina even took care not to breath too loud, lest she disturb the scene in front of her.

“I am very happy you enjoy it.” She whispered softly, and silently slid her jewellery back on as Emma took another bite—accompanied by another moan. Regina ate silently, eyes on her companion who didn’t wolf down her food like she usually did, but savoured every bite. This small fact was not lost on Regina, who was carefully eating through most of the burger and half the fries before giving up. In the end, Emma finished both plates before leaning back in her chair, rubbing her stuffed belly and grinning like a fool. Regina couldn’t help but smile back at the display and marvel at her fortune for having this woman in her life. 

“Why don’t you retire to the den? I’ll put the dishes away and join you in a few minutes.” Emma narrowed her eyes, gauging if she could actually get away with not cleaning up and Regina shooed her off with a laugh. “Go!”

“Thanks.” Emma said weakly as she hopped off of the stool with a groan and waddled off through the house, leaving a bemused Regina behind to put the dishes away in the dish washer. She rinsed everything off and decided to just run the program tomorrow when she had collected a bit more dishes to run. Kicking the door shut, she fetched herself a glass of wine and Emma a beer before joining her in the den. Emma way lying on the couch, eyes closed, hand still rubbing her full belly. She had turned on a few small lights, leaving the room cosy and relaxed. 

“I can get you something else, but I have a beer for you.” She announced and Emma’s beautiful green eyes settled on her. As always, her heart skipped a beat, especially when Emma smiled lazily. 

“Thanks. Table, please?” Emma instructed and Regina nodded, setting both beverages down on the side table where they were promptly forgotten. She moved off to the fireplace, feeling along the edge of it to locate the ‘on’-switch. The fire lighting easily and effortlessly, casting a warm glow over the room and spreading a gentle warmth in the slightly chilly room. She debated herself for a second but then stepped over to the couch to join Emma.

“Lift your head,” she instructed, which Emma did with a groan. She slid herself under Emma’s head and Emma laid it back down again with a content hum. Regina’s left hand found Emma’s hair and her right took over for Emma on her belly, massaging the food down with skilful motions she had acquired through many nights of stomach cramps with Henry—who was equally clueless about the limits of the human stomach as his mother.

“Are you sorry about those last few fries now?” Regina inquired and Emma grinned.

“Nope.” She answered and Regina smiled despite herself. Adorable. 

These were the last words between them for a long while. The silence offered both of them a chance to catch up with their situation and revel in the rightness of it. Regina especially found it unbelievable how easy it was to learn to love again. After Daniel, she had thought she would never love anyone ever again. His death had hurt too much, as had her hope of his resurrection. King Leopold did not even come near the list of people she had loved in her life, and of all the deaths she had caused, this was the sole one she did not feel guilty about. She could still feel the weight of him on her, his beard rasping across her cheek as she fought her cries at the onslaught of his desires. No, she had wanted him dead with all of her being, and wished she could wash away the shame and pain of countless nights in his possession. There was only one other who met the criteria; Graham. She had cared for Graham—another stab of guilt—but she had never loved him. He had offered her desire, and she had accepted it because she had been lonely. They had stopped for a while because of Henry, but she had invited him into her bed again once her son had turned away from her. His rejection had cut deep enough to find a balm for it in the arms of a man she came to resent for needing, and when he had started to remember it had been the excuse she had needed to end it—end him. No, she was not proud of her actions concerning Graham, but between her feelings for Emma at the time, his involvement with her, the betrayal of the only person Regina had dared to be intimate with in Storybrooke, and his returning memories, she had seen no other way out—no other way to delay the inevitable. She swallowed heavily and pushed the thoughts away, clearing her mind of anything but the feeling of Emma's head on her lap and the blonde's stomach rumbling gently under her warm hand. 

A soft sound chased off the comfortable silence after a few minutes, and Regina was pleasantly surprised to find she was making it; she was humming again. Soft tunes of a jazzy ensemble she owned the CD of. It was an easy tune, and it fell off of her lips easily enough. On her lap, Emma smiled, eyes still closed, and reached for the hand on her belly, trapping it there as she ran long fingers over the back of it. Regina sighed before resuming the soft tones that fell from her lips. As the fire crackled softly in the near darkness and Emma gently tapped her foot to the rhythm of her song, Regina realized she had never felt so at home anywhere and with anyone in her life, and never as loved.


	2. The Pain Of The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to Sleeping At Last's 'Bad Blood'.

Regina was humming again; soft and low in her throat. It was a tune she remembered but could not recall to perfection. In the stillness of the house, there was no one to judge her lapses and improvisations, and so she did not force herself to stop or pick another tune. She simply hummed the parts she remembered as she moved through the rooms with a duster, clad in simple black slacks, medium heels, and a form fitting blouse that did not constrict her movements. 

She was doing well, all things considered. The events of the weekend had left their impressions on her state of mind, but she was coping with them far better than she had ever had. Not only was she not suppressing them until the point they consumed her, but she was also not feeling overwhelmed anymore. She was tired, yes, and still somewhat untethered, but with Emma to care for her and the blonde woman to care for in return, it was easier.

Last night, she had awoken from a nightmare again—one whose images had left her the second she had opened her eyes—and while she would have usually gotten out of the bed, a sleeping Emma had wrapped herself around her tighter as she had tried to move out from under her and Regina had surrendered. Sleep had claimed her again faster than she could have imagined and she had slept until Emma’s alarm clock had awoken her. It was the first time in a long, long, time that she had simply moved past a nightmare and had not gotten out of bed or hadn’t fallen into a pattern of repeating the nightmare every time she fell asleep until the dreaded cycle ended with the sound of her alarm clock.

Regina enjoyed Emma’s work day mornings quite a bit. They had found an easy routine—could you call something a routine if it had only happened a few times but still felt like the most natural thing in the world?—where Regina lingered in bed until she had managed to get Emma out of it, threw on something comfy and went downstairs to make Emma coffee while the blonde showered and dressed. If Henry was there, Regina would make him breakfast. When Emma came down, Regina would push a piece of fruit in her general direction and Emma ate it with a glare and a few mumbled grumpy words, washing it away with sips of concentrated caffeine to wake her up. Eventually, she would send Emma off with a hug and a lingering kiss—lingering longer if Henry was not around to bear witness—and shoo her out of the door with her car keys and badge, sometimes with Henry, other times she drove him to school herself.

This morning, Henry had not been here, and they had found themselves on the couch, just kissing, until well after Emma was supposed to leave. She had smiled as she watched Emma rush off, and had closed the door to head to her ‘end of the routine’-shower.

She glanced at the clock, and smiled a tad dejectedly at discovering Henry would have just gotten out of school by now. Monday’s were Neal’s, so she would only see her boy tomorrow afternoon, after class. Regina didn’t complain, though, not even in her head. Neal had gotten the worst part of the deal with a school night as his only set allotted time with his son, and while Emma’s nights were officially Fridays and Saturdays, at the moment that meant that Regina got to see him at least one of the two—the other Emma still took him over to her parents, even though that had not really worked out well last time. With Emma staying over more often, she got to spend more time with Henry than ever before—sleep-overs at the Darlings included—and the arrangement worked well for all of them. It had been almost a month since this schedule had been drafted and so far, no one had complained.

A tentative knock on the door shook Regina from her thoughts. Looking about her a moment in confusion, she left the duster on the dining room table and wiped her hands on her slacks before running them through her hair. She had not ordered anything to be delivered, Emma was at work, Henry was with his father, and Tink would check in before coming over—they had talked on the phone for a while when Emma was with her parents the day after her panic attack, and while Regina was grateful for the ex-fairy’s help, she was also aware they were not yet on friendly enough terms to just drop by unannounced at each other’s houses. There was literally no one else she could think of who would drop by to see her.

With a steadying breath, Regina opened the door and felt her mouth go dry as her heart sprung to a gallop. In front of her, standing somewhat nervously a polite step back from her door, was Mary Margaret Blanchard. Her first instinct was to throw the door shut and hide. Seeing as that would not do in the current situation—besides, it would be uncivilized to do so—Regina hardened herself, wrapping her well-worn emotional armour around her like a second skin she could still summon, abide with greater difficulty. 

“Mrs. Blanchard. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?” Regina greeted her coldly, unable to banish from her mind that this was Emma’s mother, her step-daughter, and that she knew that Emma and her had been intimate. She had known seeing Mary Margaret was going to be awkward, but to be caught so completely unawares made the situation that much worse.

“Regina…” Mary Margaret sounded tired, not angry like Regina had expected, or desperate like the last time they had stood like this. “Can I please come in? I think we have some subjects to discuss.”

Regina couldn’t think of a single reason to say no besides the fact that she would rather never have this conversation, let alone when she was unprepared and in clothes that did not empower her but spoke to the softer side of her character—the side she had been trying to develop as of late. The side of her that did not need the armour. After a second or two, she broke contact with Mary Margaret’s eyes and stepped aside. The school teacher and current mayor of Storybrooke took a badly hidden deep breath and entered the mansion. Regina smirked lightly behind her back at Mary Margaret’s unwillingness to enter the proverbial dragon’s den, despite showing up to it of her own free will. She shut the door behind her gently, and watched Mary Margaret look about her. How long had it been since Mary Margaret had been inside her home? Regina wondered if she had ever been here at all.

“You have a beautiful home.” Mary Margaret complimented and Regina was reminded of a younger Snow White, the woman who had rescued her metamorphosed self and spoke of Regina to her. Her tone was full of genuine care, as if Mary Margaret was, indeed, happy to discover Regina lived in a nice place. Clasping her hands together and standing ramrod straight, Regina realized she did not know what to say to Mary Margaret in this situation. Arch enemies were not supposed to say nice things to one another—but then again, Snow and her had never been arch enemies in the traditional sense of the word; there had been a lot of love between them once, mixed in with bitterness and resentment, but love none the less. With Regina’s growing understanding of Mary Margaret’s tormented mind, she had come to realize that she had never truly stopped caring for Snow White; she had only stopped caring about herself.

“Thank you,” she eventually said, her voice breaking just a little. She covered it quickly, offering Mary Margaret tea or coffee, if she so desired.

“Tea, please.” Mary Margaret answered quickly and offered a smile that Regina remembered so well from the days of the curse that she had to look away—it was somewhere between hope and sadness and it only served to make Regina nervous and guilty. Both were jarring. 

“Tea it shall be. Please, take a seat in the...” She trailed off a moment, thinking where to best have this conversation; because there was going to be a conversation and she was going to do her best not to throw fireballs, or toss Mary Margaret out, or even yell, because this was Emma’s mother, and underneath it all, this was Snow White, the only person who—despite all broken promises and all the pain—had made her time at King Leopold’s castle at least marginally bearable. 

“…the living room.” She finished tiredly, extending her hand towards the general direction of the most neutral of rooms in the house; the dining room too formal, the den too personal, the office too… incorrect. Mary Margaret nodded at her and headed into the room somewhat hesitantly while Regina watched and her emotions swirled inside of her.

Retreating into the relatively safe isolation of the kitchen, Regina once more found herself leaning into the kitchen island, trying to find her equilibrium. This meeting had been a long time coming and yes, perhaps they were ready for it. Still, she could not keep her hands from shaking as she prepared the tea and set all utensils out on a beautiful silver tray. She fussed over their placement slightly too long, trying to gather thoughts that refused to be gathered. They fluttered everywhere, unwilling to form coherent sentences or put labels to feelings, and eventually, she could only take a deep breath, think of Emma’s arms as they encircled her and pulled her close, and tried to hold on to the feeling of protection that always gave her. She would prefer to meet Mary Margaret with an armour of love instead of one made of hate.

As she entered the living room, she found Mary Margret pressed all the way into the armrest of the couch nearest to the windows, the one Ruby and Henry had picked out during movie night just a few short days ago. The two women exchanged a smile full of nerves and Regina busied herself making tea, kneeling next to the salon table upon which she had set the tray.

“Do you still take your tea with two lumps of sugar and a bit of cream?” She asked realizing she knew very little about Mary Margaret; what she did know about her personally dated back to their shared time in the castle, and that was a long time ago. Mary Margaret’s eyes widened slightly at her question.

“You remember that?” Mary Margaret questioned, voice barely above a whisper. It seemed Regina was not the only one feeling sentimental as of late. It was bolstering.

“I made your tea every night before you went to bed for a long time. Yes, I remember how you used to like it. The question is, is it still how you drink it?” Regina answered gruffly, but she realized the undercurrent of their shared history was difficult to ban from her voice. She suspected that because of that, Mary Margaret let her gruffness slide for the time being and simply nodded.

“Yes, that is still how I drink my tea.” Mary Margaret said, and there was something in her tone that tugged at Regina’s heartstrings. The knowledge that Snow still drank her tea in the way Regina had taught her to appreciate was flattering somehow, and made her feel even more fragile in light of the coming talk. She quickly distracted herself by preparing the mixture and offering the cup to Mary Margaret on a saucer. Mary Margaret accepted with a quiet ‘thank you’, and set it on her lap as she waited for Regina to mix hers in the same manner. 

Regina stood and regarded her choices. She could sit away from Mary Margaret on the opposite couch, but that was not what she wanted right now, and she did not feel it would actually help them in this situation either. So she moved around the table, taking the long way towards the opposite end of the couch Mary Margaret was occupying and sat down, folding her legs neatly, and sitting her cup on her legs, mirroring her guest.

A silence fell between them as both sipped their too hot drinks. What could you say to someone whose life you had destroyed and who was involved intimately with someone you loved? Was there anything you could say that was not a platitude? Were there words that negated the damage done, or at least offered a reprieve from the guilt that accompanied it? If there were, Regina could not think of them, and for a long time, it seemed Mary Margaret could not either.

“Do you love her?”

The question caught her so off guard, she almost dropped her cup. She managed to hold on to the ear of it, but the liquid sloshed over edge, most of it being contained by the saucer below. Regina stared at the spots of wetness rapidly expanding on her pant leg, and then up to meet Mary Margaret’s eyes. She studied them a moment, reading nothing and everything in them at the same time.

“Yes,” she eventually answered softly, but with complete resolve. “I never planned to, but I do. Very much so.” 

Mary Margaret studied her in return, eyes slipping to her sagging shoulders, the tears that threatened to fall, the fearful resolve in her set jaw, the nervousness in her trembling hands, and the straightness in her back as she refused to back down from her admission of genuine love. Mary Margaret’s jaw set as well, and she shut her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. When she opened them again, there was a damp sheen to them.

“I believe you,” she whispered, and Regina wanted to scoff, get up and yell that she did not need Mary Margaret to believe her, that she could love whomever she chose to love—but they both knew that was not true and that while Regina did not need Mary Margaret’s approval, she had always wanted Snow’s, even if she did not want to admit it. And so, Regina sat, quietly, and averted her eyes.

“I… I have wanted to say this to you for a long time now—” Regina hesitated as she slowly dragged her eyes back to the woman on the opposite end of the couch. Who was she now? Was this Mary Margaret? Snow White? Who did Regina need her to be right now? 

“…Snow. I want to tell you how sorry I am for what I did to you, and to Charming. To everyone, really. There were… circumstances, and I do not know if you are aware of them, but in the end, those circumstances do not matter. In the end, it was me who took out my anger on you, and it caused so many lives to end prematurely, and so many happy endings to shatter. I want you to know that not a day has gone by in which I have not felt the pain and guilt of what I did, and I admit that it has taken me quite a while to see this, but I owe you the greatest apology, and it is to you whom I have the largest debt to pay. I do not ask for your forgiveness, because we both know that what I did can never be forgiven, at least not in full. I just need you to know that I wish our circumstances had been different and that I could have been the person you needed me to be—the mother you needed me to be.” Regina spoke slowly, crisply, and softy, her voice strained through the emotions threatening to choke her. 

Mary Margaret listened quietly, eyes large and set on her without pause. Once Regina fell silent, she swallowed and looked away, hand coming up to wipe at a misty corner of her eye. Regina sat silently, frozen in place, waiting for Mary Margaret’s reply. She did not fear it; whatever Mary Margaret had to say, Regina was aware of the dynamic between them now, and all that mattered was that she had taken this step forward. For Emma. For Henry. For herself, and maybe even for Snow.

“You’re right, Regina; I can never forgive you for what you did.” For a second it seemed Mary Margaret was going to slam down her cup and storm out, but she didn’t. 

“What you did to me, to us, was beyond cruel. You took my father from me, you tried to seduce my husband, and now you have gotten yourself involved with my daughter.” Mary Margaret shook her head, a dark smile on her features that was not meant to amuse at all.

“You have gotten your claws into everyone I have ever loved—or at least you have tried to. I can’t stop Emma from being with you, and I can’t bring my father back. You never had a shot with David. So that leaves us here, where you always take, and I end up hurt in the end. Because that is what you do, isn’t it? Lash out? Hurt people? Please, tell me again how sorry you are about everything, Regina, because maybe, if you say it often enough, it won’t sound so ridiculous.” 

Regina listened quietly to Mary Margaret raging at her, and watched stoically as tears spilled from Mary Margaret’s eyes. Nothing in Regina wished to lash out in return, and that surprised her greatly. The Evil Queen would have destroyed Snow White for this. No, all Regina felt was a heavy numbness; an overwhelming mixture of indifference, self-loathing, and pity for the woman before her. Regina was still rising towards the light; it was still Mary Margaret who was slipping towards the dark. Just like she had realized; just like she had feared.

“Your father raped me; again, and again, and again.” She spoke softly as the onslaught of Mary Margaret’s words lessened. She kept any form of judgement out of her voice, careful not to turn this into a shouting match. Of everything Snow had said, this was the only point she even felt the need to offer up a response to, because out of everything she had done, she would never apologize for orchestrating King Leopold’s death. Not after what he had done to her.

“I know you loved him very much, and I am aware that by the rules of the Enchanted Kingdom it was his right as my husband to demand sex from me, but I never wanted it. He never asked me if I wanted it. He presented me with my own sleeping quarters, but after your evening tea, he would always summon me into his, and I always went because my mother had taught me that whatever my husband desired of me, I had to give. I played the game of marriage with the rules of the Enchanted Kingdom, and in the end, I won because he arrogantly believed he truly owned me. I am sorry I took your father away from you, but I do not regret plotting his murder. It was my only way out of a life that I never wanted to have.” Regina explained her case softly, as gently as she could, as if she was speaking to a young Snow again; the Snow who had lost her father to the beginnings of the Evil Queen.

Mary Margaret was looking at her, her face teary and angry, and so much like young Snow that Regina wished she could reach out to her and offer some form of comfort; her anger and hate for snow had built up over the years, but she had always been protective of children… and for a while, Snow had been hers. She did not reach out, however; many years of hurt and suffering had taken that right away from her.

“Perhaps it is better if you leave now…” She suggested. “I want to thank you for coming, though, and I want you to know that you are always welcome here. Please, consider my words and perhaps we can talk more later. I think for today, we have said quite enough already.” Her voice reflected the sadness that still clung to her, settling into the unbridgeable divide between them.

Mary Margaret did not answer her verbally, she simply stood, placed the saucer and cup on the table, and walked out into the hallway, heading for the door. Regina followed her at an appropriate distance, having ridded herself of her tea as well. 

“I will never harm Emma.” She said into oppressive silence that hung between them, needing to say it, reassure Mary Margaret somehow. The petite woman froze for a moment, hand on the door. Then she opened it and walked out, the door slamming behind her. Regina stood dejectedly in the hallway, confused and a little dazed by the events of the last half hour. She wondered if what had happened was a good or a bad thing, and feared how it would impact her relationship with Emma. 

Now she was alone and the armour she had desperately clung to faded away into the whirlwind of her emotions, she found in herself a deep desire to go after Snow White and hug her, to wipe away all bad from her memories. It was an idle thought, however, because she could not. She had told Snow the truth: she really wished their circumstances had been different, that _she_ had been different. Looking back, she would have liked to be a mother to Snow White… once upon a time, if she had not already been a pawn in the game Rumpelstiltskin was playing. Once upon a time, if she could have.


	3. The Hollows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to Bastille's 'Daniel In The Den'.

Why did everyone always call her at the worst fucking moments? It was a question that tormented Emma once more as she wrapped her left arm protectively around the trunk of the tree she was far too high up in to fall down and not get hurt, and carefully—carefully—reached down into the pocket of her jeans for the loudly howling phone. She would have let it ring—in fact, she probably should let it ring—but between needing to be available for her job, the tension with her parents, Henry’s sleep-over with his dad, and Regina’s recent struggles, Emma was rather adamant to pick up when called.

The screen showed one of her favourite images of Regina: a candid shot of the woman she had snapped in the park yesterday as she was feeding ducks with Henry. Smiling yet feeling slightly inconvenienced, she unlocked the phone and brought it to her ear, squishing it between her shoulder and cheek and bringing her arm down so she could hold on to the tree with both hands. The last thing she needed today—or ever, really—was to fall out of it. 

“Regina, hey, I’m kind of half way up a tree right now so… is it important?” She asked as understanding as possible. There was a moment of silence on the line, and Emma could just _see_ Regina’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as she debated cutting to the chase or asking Emma why she was in a tree. It wasn’t that interesting a story, really. Emma eyed the furry feline creature hissing at her from two branches up and squinted right back at it. If she had known fishing cats out of trees was part of her job description, she would have declined, thank you very much.

“I thought you might appreciate knowing that your mother just paid me a visit.” Regina finally said, her voice absolutely unreadable, which either meant that Regina was on the verge of tears, or had immolated her mother and was debating how to tell Emma. Neither sounded appealing, but the first was easier to restore, so she banked on that.

“Are you, uh… okay? And Mary Margaret…? Is she…?” 

Oh, how to ask your partner if she injured your mother in any way without giving away you were actually worried that might have happened…

“We are both fine, Miss Swan.” Regina answered irritably, and Emma flinched. Not subtle enough, obviously. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply anything, just, you know, with your shared history...” Emma tried and there was a moment of silence.

“Right. Well, I just thought you might find it prudent to know. She asked about my feelings for you, and I think we got those sorted, but we also wandered upon the subject of her father—your grandfather—and that was somewhat more painful. I would appreciate it if…” A pause, a hesitation perhaps.

“I would appreciate it if you would ‘check in’ with her, so to say, if you find a moment. You will be spending the night with your parents, yes? I would be much obliged if you could… let me know how she is doing?” Regina asked, and there was a frailty in her voice that gave Emma pause. Gripping the tree a little tighter with her right arm, she adjusted the slipping phone with her left before once more holding on for dear life.

“I, yeah, sure. I will. Should I tell her you—” Emma started, but was cut off right away.

“No, no, that will not be necessary. In fact, it might be better if you do not tell her we even had this conversation. I should let you get back to work. I—I love you.” And with that, the line went dead. Emma blinked. She carefully lowered the phone from her ear and stared at the screen a moment before slipping it back into her pocket. This was going to need some damage control. First, though, she needed to get that damn cat and get down from this tree in one piece.

Emma couldn’t quite believe Mary Margaret had gone to Regina—obviously unannounced—to request her intentions with her daughter. It was so… Enchanted Kingdom of her. And stupid. Mostly stupid. Emma sighed as she let her eyes pick a path upwards before she even chanced getting up on the limb she had managed to shift her weight onto. She had to admit it was a little touching; having a mother came with having someone who was automatically concerned for you and while she was still pissed at Mary Margaret, she couldn’t really blame her for looking out for her daughter. With a careful shake of her head, she pushed these thoughts aside and reached out with her hand to the nearest branch that would get her closer to her goal. This was a time to prioritize, and her familial issues would just have to wait a little longer.

She’d barely hoisted herself up into a standing position before her phone rang again. Pressing herself against the rough bark, Emma pulled the device from her pocket, swiped it blindly, and put it to her ear.

“Regina, still a little busy.” She snapped, trying to keep an even voice along with her equilibrium. A laugh filled her ear; a laugh definitely not belonging to the ex-Mayor.

“Ah, so that is who you were talking to just now. My my, Sheriff Swan, you really are spending a lot of time with Henry’s other mother lately.” Ruby sassed, and Emma rolled her eyes.

“Shut up.” She stated flatly, and another laugh sounded on the line.

“Tsk tsk, so defensive. You know, I have been a very patient little wolf over the weekend, but you don’t call, you don’t write… I think it’s time you and I had a good, long, talk about a certain dark haired beauty in your life, my friend, and that time is tonight. My place, I have wine. Be here at eight.” Ruby announced in her best ‘don’t even try to resist me’-tone. Emma, again, rolled her eyes.

“And how are you so sure I have the evening off?” She asked gruffly, but her voice held no real venom.

“I don’t,” Ruby admitted, “…but If you didn’t, you would have told me already. Eight sharp, Sheriff, and bring the gossip.” Amusement was dripping off of Ruby’s voice and Emma wanted to give her a sassy remark; unfortunately, Ruby had hung up as suddenly as Regina had, and once more, Emma was stuck holding a disconnected phone while half way up a considerable tree. 

“For fuck sakes…” she grumbled as she once more slipped the phone into her pocket. What was this, gang up on Emma Swan day? Next time, she wanted a memo. After the events of yesterday, she was not ready to deal with too much. She could still feel the gentle itch of desire that magic had left in her system and it left her with a rather short fuse.

Thankfully, the cat let himself be hoisted out of the tree without too much of a fuss—but only after Emma managed to grab him by the back of the neck. By the time she got down, she had two slash marks on her hand; her leather jacket had taken the brunt of the cat’s panicked assault before her vice grip had fallen upon him. Mrs. Tenner was grateful enough to have her precious fleabag back, so Emma smiled, said it was all in a day’s work and hightailed it out of the old lady’s garden before the cat could get any crazy ideas and climb the tree again just to spite her. Next time, she was going to say she was too busy to take care of it and call David instead. Let him climb the damn tree.

As she drove back to the station, Emma once more went over the calls she had just gotten. Ruby’s was pretty clear cut—her lanky friend knew and she was not afraid to rub it in. Fine, Emma could deal with that. Now her parents knew, there was really no reason to keep this from Ruby any longer. 

Regina’s call had left her a little worried, and she wondered if she should call back or hurry home to Mary Margaret. She had about forty-five minutes left on her shift, so Mary Margaret could probably wait. Regina hadn’t sounded happy, but Emma didn’t have anything to report so calling her back wasn’t constructive at the moment… even though she would love to hear Regina’s voice. Sighing, she decided against the action; without anything good to report, a call from her would probably only rack up Regina’s angst, and that was not what Emma wanted to accomplish.

The concern over Mary Margaret—Snow White—in Regina’s voice had taken her a little by surprise, but now the thought had settled, it did make sense. For better or worse, Emma’s mother was Regina’s step-daughter, and they shared a complicated history. Regina had saved and spared Snow’s life on multiple occasions and the favour had been returned plenty along the years; surely there was love there—painful, distorted, love, but love none the less.

Pulling up to the Sheriff’s station, Emma parked the car for the day and headed in to quickly file a rapport on the cat situation. She also filled in a form for a replacement leather jacket—she could always try—and spent the remainder of her shift staring off into the distance, deep in thought. There was plenty to think about, after all.

King Leopold, for example. She could fit what she knew about that man and the situation surrounding his death in a matchbox. One day, she was going to borrow Henry’s storybook and really _read_ it. It was ridiculous that her son knew more about the people in her life than she did. King Leopold… What did she know about him? She knew Mary Margaret had adored him, but the one time Henry had brought him up, his eyes had held a good bit of reserve. Henry certainly wasn’t an instant fan. From one of their night-time talks in the dark, Emma knew Regina had hated Leopold, and had relished when he was away on one of his journeys. Emma was also quite aware that Regina had killed him, as a quiet confession by Mary Margaret just after the breaking of the curse had swung home. The thought was chilling, but if there was one thing Emma had learned over the years in Storybrooke and her short time in the Kingdom, it was that the Kingdom and the real world did not play by the same rules.

She couldn’t really lay her finger on it, but it came back to what Regina and her had discussed just this morning: everything in the fairy tales was black or white; there was no middle ground. Everything required action, and the results of those actions was often extreme. You were good or evil, light or dark; you were either happy or you suffered, and there was no middle ground. No one negotiated happiness in the Enchanted Forest; you either had it or you tried to take it, and in the light of that greatest good, everything was acceptable—even murder, at least when you were already cast in the roll of dark. Good was never allowed to lash out like that. Emma figured it was easier when killing didn’t come with blood and guts, but just a solid squeeze of a ripped out magical heart.

The real world was all grey, as if the middle had been sucked out of the fairy tales, or as if the extremes had been pushed out of this world and into the Kingdom. Perhaps the two had once been linked, and that was how the stories of the Enchanted Forest had come to be here, in the bedroom of almost every little kid. Blinking, Emma awoke from her musings. Her thoughts were getting entirely too twilight-zone philosophical here, and it was five minutes past five. She was officially off the clock. 

It took her roughly ten minutes to dump her gun in the safe, arrange the forwarding of the station’s phones, pick up after herself a little, and find her car keys. By the time she stood outside, her stomach had picked up on the fact they were going home to a home-cooked meal—probably, anyway, if Mary Margaret hadn’t spiralled back into her depression phase—and any deep thought of overlapping worlds and their inherent differences was discarded. Emma had always been a simple girl with simple joys, and she would let someone else worry about the things she couldn’t change anyway. It was a philosophy which had served her well in the past, and she had every intention of carrying it on in the trying times ahead. Yet, even she could not ignore that she now had a steady claim in sorting out this mess, because at its core were two of the most important people in her life—her mother and her partner—and she did not want to see either hurt more than they already were.

Her beloved death trap was more than happy to carry her and her growling stomach home, and even Storybrooke’s excessive traffic lights cooperated for once. It was thus that she found herself on her own doorstep around five-thirty, and now she was here, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go in. She didn’t really want to deal with Mary Margaret… but the woman was her mother and she had promised Regina she would. Besides, she was already going out tonight, so she should at least spend the little time she had today with Mary Margaret.

By the time she’d turned the lock on the door, Mary Margaret had greeted her from the kitchen, and the smell of baked potatoes and something else—cheese perhaps?—had drifted up to her nose. Her mouth watered as she shrugged off her molested jacket and threw it over the back of the chair. It took a squinting glance from Mary Margaret to regrettably reach out for it again and hang it on its hook. Both women sighed, abide for entirely different reasons.

“Where’s David?” Emma asked, looking about before settling back on Mary Margaret. Although she was moving about and acting chipper as always, Emma could see that her mother had been crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, and there was a slight slouch in Mary Margaret’s posture that was usually absent.

“He’ll be here soon, I asked him to go to the shop for me; I forgot something this afternoon.” Mary Margaret answered, and by her tone alone, Emma was quite sure that that _something_ was ‘feminine hygiene products’. Well, at least that meant there wasn’t a baby on the way just yet. Realizing how selfish that was of her, she took a steadying breath and walked deeper into the apartment, sitting down at the counter.

“So… you look like you had a pretty crappy day,” she commented, keeping her voice light, but letting a little bit of concern filter in. Mary Margaret turned to her slightly before turning back and flipping over something that looked very appetizing in one of the two pans on the furnace. 

“Did Regina tell you?” Mary Margaret answered accusatorily, and Emma bit the inside of her cheek to steady herself.

“She made me promise to not answer that question.” Emma answered, hoping the blatant picking of Mary Margaret’s side would help get Mary Margaret to see she wasn’t the enemy just because she was sleeping with, well, the enemy.

“Whatever she told you, Emma, I only came to talk.” Mary Margaret said over her shoulder, and it was clear that her mother expected that Regina had told her some sort of horror story about their meeting. As far as Emma was aware, Regina hadn’t felt the need to embellish any type of story she had told her in months. They may not always have been honest with each other, but they were when it mattered—and Regina knew Mary Margaret mattered to her. Hell, Mary Margaret probably mattered to Regina far more than the former Queen was letting on. 

“I know, she said you asked her about her feelings for me? According to her, that went about as well as expected, but then you got to talking about… your father, and that was painful for both of you, but mostly for you.” Emma interpreted Regina’s considerably shorter message. Sure, she was feeling a bit guilty for basically betraying Regina’s trust, but she was mending bridges, damn it, and if this worked out in the end, she was sure Gina would forgive her. 

Mary Margaret seemed to have frozen a little, only moving when the oil in the pan spat up at her. She yelped and sucked on the scorched back of her hand. Taking the pan off of the fire, she turned around to regard Emma, who went for openness on her features. Even Emma—who hated discussing her feeling and voicing her inner thoughts—was aware that this family’s lack of genuine communication was getting completely out of hand, and with the turn at radical honesty she had adopted with Regina, perhaps it was time to introduce a little more of that into her biological family as well.

“She asked me to check up on you.” Emma said bravely, praying to whatever deity listening that this gamble would turn out well. 

“She sounded pretty worried.” 

Mary Margaret’s eyes squinted dangerously as she regarded her, and Emma just knew what Mary Margaret was thinking: that Regina was playing her. Only she wasn’t, Emma was sure about that. She knew she had a handle on reading Regina’s emotions and she was very sure she wasn’t getting played in any way, shape, or form. Regina may have been trying to hide it, but what Emma had heard in her voice over the phone was genuine concern.

Mary Margaret was saved from answering by David, who entered the apartment and stuffed the small plastic bag he had been carrying behind the nearest chair the second he laid eyes on Emma.

“You’re early.” He said, eyeing the two women in the apartment and obviously gauging the mood. He was either oblivious to the tension between them, or decided not the make a remark about it, because he only moved over to Emma, laying a hand on the back of her head like he always did, and leaning over the counter to kiss Mary Margaret, who leaned in willingly. Once they broke apart, Emma—who had been studiously inspecting the counter—cleared her throat and spoke up.

“Yeah, slow day and a cooperating universe. How was shopping?” She asked evilly, and for a moment, Emma was sure David was blushing. Before she could confirm her suspicions, however, he withdrew himself and shrugged off his jacket, turning around until his moment of embarrassment had passed. Well-trained as he was, David did hang the garment in the designated spot and Mary Margaret smiled at him once he turned around. Emma simply grinned, eyeing the chair behind which David had discarded the bag. 

“It was good. Now, how is everything here?” He asked pleasantly, but the undertone of protective worry—for both of them—was clear. While Emma struggled with Mary Margaret as a mother, she kind of liked having David as a father. He wasn’t obvious about it, but she just knew he would always have her back, even when she was behaving like a total ass. 

“Dinner is almost ready.” Mary Margaret said, obviously dodging the real question, but both Emma and her father let it go. It was no use pushing Mary Margaret when she did or did not want to do something—there was too much of Snow White in her for that. Time for a peace offering.

“What’s for dinner? It smells really good.” Emma asked, and she obviously was not lying about that. Post-curse Mary Margaret had once confided in her that she had never cooked a day in her life before the Dark Curse, but Emma thought she had gotten quite good at it in the twenty-eight years as Mary Margaret Blanchard.

“It’s honey roasted red potatoes with spicy broccoli—” Emma frowned at that “…and stuffed mozzarella rolls.” Mary Margaret finished quickly, scoffing at her daughter’s persistent desire not to eat anything healthy. Emma swore that her mother thought she had never touched a vegetable in all her years, but that wasn’t true. There were tomatoes and mushrooms on pizza, right? The fact that neither was technically a vegetable was completely lost to her. 

“That sounds really good.” David said reassuringly, and Mary Margret smiled her first genuine smile since Emma had arrived. Whatever she thought of her parents, Emma was very happy they were together and they obviously cared a great deal about one another. Everyone deserved a shot at happiness and True Love, Emma mused, and involuntarily let her mind wander to Regina and Henry; her greatest sources of happiness and true love. When she felt eyes on her, she straightened out her face but it was too late. Mary Margaret barely contained a glare, David smiled his fatherly smile at her, and Emma just wanted the earth to swallow her whole on the spot.

“Right, dinner?” Mary Margaret said, her voice just a bit high-pitched, and the pan she took off of the fire was smacked down just a little too forcefully on the counter. David sat down next to a groaning Emma and patted her leg out of view of his wife. It was strengthening and Emma sat herself up straighter, accepting the plate of food Mary Margaret handed her with a smile she _really_ tried to feel and convey. She honestly did not want to hurt Mary Margaret but this was such a damn sore subject… No matter how carefully she broached it—even if she didn’t actually broach it at all—it was already too much. 

The next few minutes were spent silently, all sitting quietly, slowly chewing their way through food that really was very good, but mostly went unnoticed. The only time Emma really paid attention was when she realized that Mary Margret had snuck some kind of vegetable mixture in the rolls and there really was no way to eat around it. Not wanting to come across entirely as someone twenty years her junior, Emma bravely ate her way through it and had to admit she liked it well enough. 

“I’m going to Ruby’s tonight.” She finally announced, feeling the oppressive weight of the silence finally become too much. David nodded, while Mary Margaret just looked slightly hurt. Well, tough; it wasn’t as if this was a gossip session her mother actually wanted to attend. Emma was going for understanding today, not sainthood. 

“I’ll probably be back late, so don’t wait up.” She added, feeling slightly guilty for the disguised jab, but both her parents let it go.

“Alright, have fun.” David said merrily—covering for his wife—as he patted her on her leg again. Emma glanced at the clock: nearly six thirty PM. Good God, she was not staying here for another hour. She was quite sure that if she did that, something was going to go so horribly wrong, there was no fixing it afterwards. She pushed her plate away—half the broccoli still on it, but the rest eaten—and thanked her mother for the lovely meal.

“I should shower and change.” She excused herself before leaving the counter in favour of said shower and change of clothes. She stretched the activities, but she still had a little less than an hour to kill before she could show up at Ruby’s. Well, that was easily fixed. She laced up her boots and shook out her curling hair once again before heading down the stairs. 

“I’m off. See you tomorrow.” She greeted a bit too happily for the awkwardness that still hung like a blanket over the dinner scene before her. Her parents waved her off and Emma escaped with her blue jacket. The cooling night air was very much like a breath of fresh air and it helped her clear her head. She had expected her parents to take some time, but this quiet hurt and awkward silence-thing was doing her head in. Sure, she could ignore a bad situation as well as the next girl, but this one she actually _wanted_ to talk about, preferably without feeling like the worst person in the world for loving someone.

Putting her parents firmly out of her mind, she slid in the driver’s seat of her bug and slowly drove to the nearest gas station. She filled up the tank, paid with a smile and a word of thanks to the middle aged male behind the register, and was on her way again, heading to the other side of town. She pulled up to the curb of the Mills residence and hurried to the door. It took a few long seconds before the door opened to reveal a surprised Regina, who looked a bit tired, but not as affected as Mary Margaret. That was a good thing, Emma judged carefully.

“Emma? Is something the matter?” Regina asked, looking about the blonde before stepping aside, inviting Emma to enter.

“Nope, and I’m not coming in long…” she stepped in and Regina closed the door behind her. With a quick step Emma was in Regina’s personal space, cupping her cheek with one hand while the other pulled Regina into her by the waist. She pressed her lips firmly against Regina’s but did not fight the tenderness that her emotions desired of her to express. She savoured the way Regina melted in her arms, pressing herself close as soft arms wrapped around her neck. Lips parted under hers with a light moan, and Emma let her tongue sneak out to taste and tease gently.

They remained like this a few quiet moments before Emma pulled back. She didn’t even try to fight the smile that broke out on her face, and also did not stop the laugh that bubbled up at Regina’s confused face.

“I’m on my way to Ruby for a girl’s night, but I missed you. I wanted to see if you were okay.” She admitted. Regina smiled adorably, and Emma melted a little. She was going so soft, Emma realized, but felt no desire to fight it. She liked her softer self, and with last night’s darkness still fresh in her mind, she much preferred to linger in this moment as long as possible. 

“I am alright.” Regina answered with an equal softness as she let her forehead rest against Emma’s. 

“I was… startled by your mother’s sudden appearance at my door, but it was inevitable that we talk, and long overdue. I hope that one day we can talk longer, but I have said what was most important to me and I will wait for your mother to speak her mind freely as well.” Regina added, a tad more pain slipping into her voice at this. Emma pulled her closer for comfort and kissed her to make the demons go away. There wasn’t anything to say anyway; the situation was a mess, and everyone involved knew it.

“Have you… seen her?” Regina asked and Emma nodded.

“Mary Margaret is feeling a little… wounded, I guess, but David is with her so she should be alright. It must have been quite the talk you guys had.” Emma probed gently. Regina sighed.

“It was intense, I would say. We have a lot to discuss, and for your mother, much of that happened when she was still very young. It makes discussing these topics harder—for myself as well, because I was equally immature at that time in my life. Hopefully we have at least opened the way for future discussions today; it was surely the most civilized discussion we have had about these topics.” Regina admitted, and Emma found herself once more confronted with the guilt-ridden Regina who Emma really wanted to safe. If she was the damn Saviour, she should be able to do that—it had to be part of the package.

“I’m proud of you.” She whispered against Regina’s lips, and felt Regina’s hold on her tighten. 

“It was overdue. I have a lot to make up for.” She answered and Emma sighed.

“You are not the Evil Queen anymore, Regina. Yeah, a lot happened, but you deserve to be judged on who you are now just as much as the person you were then. You didn’t plan for all of that to happen, and now you have a shot at making your own decisions, you are trying to make amends. That should count for something.” Emma answered defensively.

“It will, my dear, but the past is still very much part of our present, and I cannot run away from that, not anymore, not if I want to keep you in my life… and I do. Very much so, in fact. So one way or another, I will figure out a way to get your mother to accept me as your partner. It is all part of operation Monarch Butterfly.” Regina said, her voice gently escalating into lighter territory and Emma grinned.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m here to stay, okay? Don’t forget that. Having said that, though… I have to go. Ruby’s waiting.” Emma answered with a grin, her heart beating a little faster in her chest at Regina’s straight forward declaration of intent. She doubted it would ever grow old to hear Regina declare she wanted to be hers. 

Regina kissed her lips lightly, lingering for a moment before extracting herself.

“Drive safe, Miss Swan, and enjoy your evening. Tell Miss Lucas ‘hello’ from me.” She added and opened the door for Emma, who nodded.

“I will. If it’s not too late tonight, can I call you?” She asked and Regina nodded. 

“Call me no matter the time.” She answered and Emma nodded happily.

“I will. Love you...” She said before heading down the paved pathway to the street. 

“As I you, Emma.” Regina said softly, but Emma caught it anyway. With the butterflies fluttering in her stomach, Emma closed the gate behind her and got in her car. As she drove off, she steeled herself for a night of quiet torment, because if there was one thing she knew for certain it was that Ruby was going to have way too much fun at her expense tonight.


	4. Girl's Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the updated tags! This chapter is very, very, very, unsuitable for work! Written to Ingrid Michaelson's ' Soldier'.

“So, when did you find out?” Emma asked as soon as the door to Ruby’s room opened. Ruby grinned widely and stepped aside.

“Pretty much as soon as you walked into the diner and asked me to a movie night with her. The evening itself was just to confirm my suspicions. You two suck at not touching, you know that?” Ruby answered honestly, letting Emma in and closing the door behind her. 

“Thanks for not putting me out of my misery _before_ that night.” Emma scoffed and Ruby grinned anew.

“Now where would be the fun in that?” She asked, walking over to her small fridge. A bottle of red sat on top of it, along with the usual clutter that belonged in Ruby’s small but very well lived in apartment. “Red or white?” She asked, and Emma resisted the urge to say ‘both’.

“White. Lots of it.” She answered instead as she walked past the tiny dining table with two chairs towards the equally tiny sofa. The room at Granny’s Bed & Breakfast was the largest of all the rooms, and conveniently on the other end of the hallway from Granny’s room—a fact that came in handy when Ruby was still fully Ruby, but her sex life had slowed down considerably since, so now the distance only served to keep Granny out of the gossip loop—but it was still no larger than Emma’s living room and housed a bed, a table, two chairs, a couch, a fridge, two dressers and a crap load of knickknacks, clothes, and shoes. How Ruby even dared to invite anyone here—let alone dates—was beyond Emma. That said, if you had Ruby at your fingertips, why would you look around anyway? There was no denying that her friend was drop dead gorgeous.

Emma watched as Ruby opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle, and unscrewed the cap. She poured a very healthy measure in two wine glasses and Emma inspected slender fingers as she took one of the glass from Ruby with a smile.

“Thanks,” she said pleasantly, and Ruby grinned as she sat down.

“Soooo… tell me everything—and yes, that includes dirty details—but before you do, I need to tell you something.” Big brown eyes settled on her and Ruby did that lip biting thing that usually meant a confession of some sorts that the long haired woman was not exactly proud of. The emotion had even crept into her excited voice near the end of the sentence. Emma frowned in confusion. It became clear Ruby needed verbal permission to continue, so Emma gave it.

“Yes…?” She prodded and Ruby took a deep breath.

“I knew. Months ago, I already knew you were sleeping together. I think cursed Ruby also knew but details like that are hard to fish out of the fog.” Ruby declared, and Emma felt her mouth fall open at the admission. She shut it tightly after a moment.

“You knew?! How?! I was careful… we were careful… at least… I know we were. Were we?!” Emma blurted, heart in her throat. If Ruby knew, how many others did as well? And for how long? Yeah, sure, there had been some eye-sex along the way, but Emma had figured that everyone would have just… chalked that up to catfights between two powerful women—even though she was overselling herself a little there. Ruby’s hand on her arm was enough to draw her frantic mind back to the present.

“Only I know as far as I am aware. Granny suspects something, I think, but she never said anything. It’s the wolf in us… I could smell her on you, her perfume, the leather of her car interior, her… well… her.” Ruby blushed through a toothy grin that mortified Emma. 

“Oh fuck…” She aspirated, letting her head fall into the hand not holding a wine glass. Remembering wine, she quickly drew her head up and took a few deep gulps of clear liquid. Perhaps alcohol would wipe away the knowledge that Ruby had _smelled_ Regina’s juices on Emma’s _person_. Perhaps that particular blend of forgetfulness would kick in any time now. From the other ‘end’ of the loveseat, Ruby was laughing at her embarrassment and obviously fighting herself.

“She smells good, I must give her that… Spicy, and a little _dark_ ,” Ruby said, obviously losing the fight with herself. Emma groaned, but couldn’t deny the shot of arousal that flushed her system. She knew the smell Ruby described well, and just the memory of it made her mouth water. Next to her, Ruby inhaled deeply.

“Mmmm… yeah, I also remember that scent well.” She said airily, and it took Emma’s overloaded mind a few seconds to come up with the scent Ruby was referring to: namely her, and her raging arousal. She jumped up, putting a good bit of distance between her and her friend as she tried to keep most of the wine in her glass and glare at Ruby at the same time.

“Ruby, I swear to God. If you don’t turn off that nose of yours right now, I am walking out of here. I will take that bottle of wine, and I will get out of here.” Emma corrected, knowing this was a night to get shit dunk on. Especially after this. Ruby, all the while, was sliding off of the couch with laughter, her slender limbs curling up as she sat cross-legged on the floor dapping at her eyes to catch the tears before they ruined her make-up. Obviously, Emma was giving Ruby a good show.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Ruby promised, trying to get her laughter and breathing under control as she held up her hands in surrender. Emma located her wine glass sitting neatly on the floor. “Wolf senses off, I promise.”

Emma squinted at her, and although her form was still shaking a little with barely contained laughter, Ruby was going for sincere. Her big brown eyes turned pleading in that puppy-dog manner that was far too easy for her—especially since she had been reunited with her wolf. Emma felt her embarrassment melt away until it was only a very vivid memory of the incredibly humiliating experience it had been. Still, Ruby was someone to be trusted; she had obviously never told anyone and she never would. Heck, she hadn’t even told Emma. Collecting herself, Emma sat down on the couch again as Ruby pushed herself up to do the same. The shit-eating grin was back on Ruby’s features.

“Okay, so, you knew. Why didn’t you ever say anything…?” Emma asked. Honestly, she could have used a friend to talk about the confusion that period of her life had brought her. 

“Because you never said anything. What was I going to say; ‘Hi Em, how was your meeting with the Mayor? Nice to know you made a three course meal out of it’?” Ruby asked and Emma had to agree that yeah, she hadn’t exactly given Ruby an opening to bring up her sex dates with the Mayor of Storybrooke. 

“Look, I did what I could to support you… and her. I came with you to save her from the mob, I tried to get her to back down and safe her life after she revealed her magic in the town hall… I tried to show you that I was on your side. I came to your movie night. But no, I wasn’t going to bring up you and her, because frankly, you weren’t ready for it.” Ruby said, again wise beyond her already extended years. Emma groaned into her glass as she drained it. Getting up, she found the bottle in the fridge and topped herself off again. She held up the bottle to Ruby, who nodded. Although her glass was still half full, Emma topped her off as well and sat the bottle down by the side of the couch. They were finishing that one, Emma predicted.

“It was… complicated.” She admitted and Ruby rolled her eyes. Still, the other woman settled into the couch, prepared for a long listen, and Emma realized she was itching to tell someone about this part of her life, the part she hadn’t gotten to process with another person yet, but desperately wanted to.

“The… God, this is so embarrassing. Okay. Fine. The first time was right after I got into town. It just… happened. We were so angry with each other, and she got in my face, and her eyes were burning in that way they do when she gets really pissed off… but I could see she was intrigued by me… and I challenged her. And she took the bait. It was quick, and rough, and afterwards I didn’t know what had happened and if I wanted it to happen again… but I did. And so did she. So it happened again, after every blow-out, after every traumatic experience, sometime just because we were horny and picking fights with each other to get it to happen.” Emma realized this was more word vomit than an actual retelling of the story, but it was accurate none the less. Judging by the heat in her nether regions and the smirk on Ruby’s features, Emma was quite sure Ruby was well aware just how the memories were affecting her, even if she tried to turn down the wolf senses. Ruby wisely kept her mouth shut, though.

“So, that lasted a few months and then Neverland happened and… I don’t know. First with the trigger incident and then the way she came through in Neverland… I started to see her differently, I guess. I didn’t want angry sex with her anymore, I wanted… fuck, I don’t know—more, somehow. As we became more civil outside of our… encounters, I just… I couldn’t do it anymore and she was giving me all these little signs that she didn’t want that anymore either. We were fighting much less, but sleeping together more and more. I guess… I just realized I wanted the intimacy, not the sex… well, that too, but not only that.” Emma went in for her third glass of wine—Ruby passed—and took a steadying breath. Her friend was silently encouraging her to go on, to get it all out. Emma was sure there were a million questions on her mind, but her friend seemed to realize that right now, Emma needed someone who listened without reserve.

“So… I thought up a plan. We had this… understanding that if one of us got off, the other had to get off as well. I put her in a position where she simply had no time to return the favour, and told her that if she wanted to make it up to me, she would let me come over for dinner. She agreed and so we had our first ‘date’, which ended up with her house totally trashed, Henry scarred for life, and us finally realizing that maybe we could work.” Ruby’s eyes had turned wide at the last sentence—obviously she had not expected that—but she covered her surprise with a sip of wine and then a nod to get Emma to continue.

“Okay, so… that was… fuck, that was eleven days ago.” Emma shook her head. Regina and her really only had two speeds: full stop and lightning speed. Even Ruby grinned indulgently, and Emma realized that she was blushing—the happy kind, the kind of blushing you do when you are embarrassed but know you wouldn’t change anything about the situation. Ruby’s hand settled on her arm, and Emma smiled up at her friend at the silent encouragement and offer of comfort and understanding.

“It’s been smoother from there on out. I told my parents and they… they haven’t taken it well. David’s doing better than Mary Margaret, but he’s not happy. Mary Margaret is pretty crushed, I guess, and scared for my well-being but Ruby, I know Regina. She wouldn’t hurt me. She—” Emma stopped herself, not sure how comfortable Regina would be if Emma shared some of the things she had learned about the proud and guarded former Queen and Mayor. She swallowed. If she wanted Ruby to take part in Operation Butterfly—and she did want that—then she needed to redeem Regina in the wolf girl’s eyes as much as she possible.

“She, Regina, she is one of the most beautifully damaged people I have ever met. I mean… I thought she was manipulative and cold, and pure evil at first but… she isn’t. She’s just in pain… in so much pain. And she is doing a little better now. You should see her Ruby, when it’s just the two of us. She is funny, and warm, and open… and she has this perfect blend of passion and sweetness… and when she says she loves me I just… I believe her and I… I guess I just feel worthy of being loved when she says it.” Mortified again, Emma downed the last of the wine in her glass and drained the bottle of the bottom still in it. Swirling the liquid in her glass, she kept her eyes studiously off of Ruby, who had yet to say anything.

“So… does that sound like I’ve lost my mind for falling for the Evil Queen?” Emma joked, trying to take the wind out of Ruby’s sails. She felt exposed, not just about admitting her love for Regina but for basically saying that she had never felt worthy of being loved before Regina had showed her she was. It was true though. All the foster families, all the abandonment issues, giving up Henry, losing Neal, the current situation with her parents… all of it had taught her one thing: she wasn’t worth sticking around for. She was not worthy of being loved. Yet Emma had known when Regina had tried to run away just so Emma would have her shot at happiness—as fucked up as that plan was—that someone valued her more than they valued themselves. That they would rather see her happy than be happy themselves. No one had ever done that for her, ever, and somehow she had known then that they were _right_ together as more than enemies with benefits. They had been right together for a long time, they just hadn’t seen it.

“No.” Ruby’s raspy voice drew her back to the present, and Emma jumped at the thick layer of emotions that accompanied Ruby’s single word. She met Ruby’s eyes and found them watery, her lips curled into a soft smile. 

“No, that doesn’t sound like you lost your mind at all. It sounds like you found it.” Ruby added and she put her virtually untouched glass of wine away so she could lean in for a hug. With her one free arm, Emma accepted it and Ruby held on to her tightly for a few long moments, knowing her friend wasn’t good with hugs but instinctively sensing she could use one right about now. Emma felt a kiss in her hair and pulled Ruby a little closer, happy her friend seemed to understand her situation and her feelings—as much of a mess as they were.

“I’m happy for you. For both of you.” Ruby whispered in her hair and Emma smiled, brighter when Ruby pulled back and looked at her with a bright but emotion-filled smile of her own. Embarrassment creeping in, Emma ruefully cleared her throat and smirked.

“So, that’s it? No sassy remarks? No teasing comments? No dirty jokes?” Emma challenged and Ruby shrugged, her expression somewhere between her natural playfulness and dead serious.

“I had planned to,” Ruby admitted. “I even came up with some jokes in advance, but then you started talking about True Love and I—” 

“Woa! True Love? Who said anything about True Love?!” Emma interjected panicky. True Love? She wasn’t ready for that! Sure, Regina and her together felt perfect, and yes, they had come together rather quickly… and yes, sure, Emma knew they were more than just people who loved each other but her mind had studiously avoided the topic of True Love. Ruby bringing it up so casually had her hyperventilating.

“No need to freak out…” Ruby sassed, but the undertone to her words was concern. “Emma, seriously. I didn’t mean to spook you or anything. It’s just… what you describe? That’s rare, and beautiful, and I have been watching you two for months now. I know how much you care for each other. You have saved each other’s lives more often than I can count. You share Henry. The Regina I got a glimpse off on movie night? That Regina was _happy_. Shit, Emma, I have heard so much about the Evil Queen, I am quite sure that she’s never been happy a day in her life, safe perhaps for the time she was still with Daniel. For you to bring that out in her? That’s a gift. Please don’t freak again, I promise I’ll drop the subject, but consider it, okay? Think of your parents and what they have—don’t you think that you and Regina might have this True Love thing down as well? Hell, this entire Dark Curse practically served to bring you two together.” Ruby monologue and Emma listened, even though her instincts told her to shove her fingers in her ears and sing at the top of her lungs until Ruby shut her mouth.

“I don’t think I’m ready for this…” Emma groaned. “I also think I’m a little too drunk.” She conceded and Ruby grinned. 

“That you are, my friend” Ruby agreed, but the smile she shot Emma was not sympathetic at all. In fact, it was downright dirty. Emma cocked an eyebrow as she observed her friend. This could not end well.

“So tell me, how is the Queen in bed? I’ve always wondered.” Ruby admitted, and Emma rolled her eyes. 

“Yeah, we are not going there.” Emma huffed, but Ruby smirked. She untangled herself and picked up the bottle of red wine which had been resting patiently on the fridge. 

“More wine, Sheriff?” Ruby coaxed, and Emma groaned. She downed the last of her white wine and held out her glass for Ruby to fill. Okay, so maybe she really, really, did want to talk about how good Regina was in bed. This was a safe space, after all.

A little after one AM, Ruby drove Emma home in her own beat up 1971 red Ford Pinto. Ruby had limited herself to two glasses of wine over the course of the night, while Emma had only switched to water after her second glass of red wine. She was going to have a monster headache tomorrow, but for now, she was chipper and buzzed. She didn’t even feel that drunk, but she knew she absolutely was. She was taking far too much pleasure in the deep roar of the ancient engine of the car, and the memory of Ruby blushing after tale upon tale of sexual adventures between Sheriff Swan and Mayor Mills. Emma was sure Ruby was impressed—and it was hard to impress Ruby in matters concerning sex—so Emma was proud of herself and Regina, and more than a little turned on. With the alcohol still burning in her belly, she realized it paled in light of the need in her core.

As the car pulled to a stop, thoughts of sex were pushed momentarily from Emma’s mind. They were at her parent’s place—they were not home; home was not here. Home was half way across town, and it had a beautiful dark haired woman in it—and Ruby got out to help her out of the car.

“Okay, so, I am going to take the Bug to work tomorrow, so you can pick it up at the diner whenever you want. Granny will let me hitch a ride home with her, I’m sure. You—” and at this, she poked Emma in the chest, who tried to swat away the hand but was too uncoordinated for subtle hand-eye coordination right now. 

“You need to set your alarm clock for eight AM and actually get up so you can hitch a ride into town with Mary Margaret. You have work tomorrow, remember?” Ruby tried to imprint on her.

“I know, Rubs, I know. I got it. God!” Emma slurred annoyed, but Ruby just grinned. 

“Okay, good. Now, get inside and keep the noise down. Your parents are probably sleeping.” Ruby added and Emma threw her arms sloppily around Ruby’s frame—Ruby who needed to use her extra wolf strength to keep the two of them upright.

“You are such a good friend Rubs. Such a good friend.” Emma gushed happily, and she could hear her lanky friend chuckle.

“So are you, Emma. Now get inside. I need to sleep, okay. Go!” Ruby told her and Emma obeyed. She fumbled with her keys—momentarily wondering where her car key was before she remembered Ruby had taken it—and managed to get inside the house without too much noise. Creeping about, she wondered if she was really as silent as she thought she was being, but didn’t worry about it too much as she stumbled up the stairs and shut the door behind her. 

She should shower, or at least undress. Neither sounded very appetizing at the moment. No, Regina sounded appetizing at the moment, and her inebriated mind had not forgotten Regina’s request for a call. Oh, Emma could do that. Five glasses of wine and one-thirty AM, but Emma could call. She crawled upon the bed and settled herself comfortably against the pillows before reaching down.

She fumbled the phone from her pocket and squinted against the brightness of the screen as she pressed the power button. Groaning, she unlocked the device and turned down the brightness as low as it would go. Opening her recent calls, she quickly selected Regina’s number and pressed the phone to her ear. The call was picked up after the fourth ring.

“Gina!” she slurred merrily, and entirely too loud.

“You are drunk, aren’t you?” Regina deadpanned on the other hand end of the line. Emma giggled.

“Yes, yes I am.” She agreed happily, and grinned into the darkness of her room.

“So I take it your evening with Miss Lucas was a success?” Emma tried to gauge if Regina was pissed, but if anything, she sounded amused. Good. Amused was good. Her slow mind could deal with amused.

“Yes,” Emma agreed again. “It was. She’s firmly in our corner, operation successful, all good.” Emma bubbled, content smile on her features.

“I am happy to hear that.” Regina answered her and Emma thought she could hear a little relief in her tone. 

“Perhaps I should pay the diner a visit soon.” Regina suggested and Emma nodded. 

“Yes, totally! Oh… but you should know that Ruby might start talking to you about sex, because we were talking and then it was about sex and she was impressed with us, with you so she said that she would ask for pointers from you. She could have been joking, though, I am not sure. Gina? Are you still there?” Emma asked as no reply was forthcoming from the brunette.

“Yes, Miss Swan, I am still here. Did I just understand correctly that you have discussed the intimate details of our sex life with Miss Lucas?” Regina questioned and Emma had to admit that the older woman did sound a little bit mad now. Maybe a lot mad.

“Yeah… she asked and there was wine… besides, you are so good in bed!” Emma gushed, stretching the ‘o’s of ‘good’ to the point where she sounded like a five year old. The crushing reprimand Emma had expected did not come, however. Her ear only picked up an aspirated sigh and Emma licked her lips.

“What are you wearing…?” She asked, shocking Regina into silence once more.

“Why are you asking?” Regina answered her after an extended break. Emma tried to read her voice, but either Regina was hiding her emotions from her, or Emma was entirely too compromised to read them properly.

“Cuz… I want to know.” She answered, avoiding the full answer for the moment.

“You’re horny, aren’t you?” Regina asked and Emma blushed, a wide grin spreading across her features all the same.

“Yep.” She answered without hesitation. “I was talking about all the things you had done to me and Ruby was talking about the way you smell and there was wine… did I mention wine…?” Emma answered, trailing off.

“…the way I smell?” Regina questioned, and Emma’s eyes flew open.

“Oh, yeah, no, forget I said that. ‘Tis nothing. Really. So… do you want to… you know…?” Emma asked, going for seduction in her voice to cover her blatant denial of Regina’s question. 

“Do I want to do what, Miss Swan?” Regina asked, the hint of irritation now clear in her voice, but she knew Regina, and Regina wasn’t mad at her right now. Emma decided to push her luck.

“You know… have phone sex…?” She pressed, blushing, but biting her lip in need all the same. Regina was quiet a moment.

“Phone sex?” Regina questioned, and Emma realized she hadn’t been dismissed out of hand. Embolden, Emma chained herself to the idea forming in her foggy brain. It actually helped chase away the effects of the alcohol a little.

“Yes, phone sex. You know, you describe what you want to do to the other person and that person touches themselves? I tell you I’m touching your breast and you touch it so you can feel it? Come on, Regina, you must have had phone sex before?” Emma questioned, but realized that wasn’t so obvious as it might appear to be. There weren’t exactly phones in the Enchanted Kingdom and after that there really hadn’t been anyone with whom Regina would have felt comfortable to engage in the practice. Emma groaned.

“I didn’t mean that.” She tried. Regina sighed.

“Alright.” Regina said plainly. Emma’s mind froze.

“Is that like… alright, alright? As in: ‘yes, let’s do this’-alright or ‘you are forgiven’-alright?” Emma questioned.

“Both.” Regina answered, but cut off Emma’s next words right away. “Before we do, though, how drunk are you? If we are fulfilling this little fantasy of yours, then I want to be sure you will remember in the morning and not fall asleep half way through.”

Those were fair request, Emma agreed, and told the dark haired woman so.

“I’m a little drunk, but not _that_ drunk. I’ll remember and I won’t fall asleep. Promise.” She vowed, pinky-swearing with the phone for good measure.

“Alright then.” Regina agreed. “You had best get started, before I change my mind.” She added darkly and Emma licked her lips.

“Okay, so, what are you wearing?” She asked again. This time she heard a rustling of something—papers? Sheets?—before Regina answered.

“I am wearing my black silk nightgown, and I am in bed, on top of the covers.” Regina supplied, voice fairly void of seduction. Whatever, Emma was feeling this for the both of them. “You?” Regina requested.

“Everything.” Emma answered withouth concious thought.

“What is ‘everything’, Miss Swan?” Regina asked dangerously, and Emma opened her eyes to look at herself.

“Uhhh… boots, jeans, shirt, jacket… what I wore before, when I came to you.” Regina hummed in understanding, and Emma realized she had to make the first move. Well, she could do that. She had been thinking about Regina all night, after all.

“Okay, so… I guess I just enter your bedroom… I’ve just come home and I find you waiting for me in our bed. The light is still on and you look so beautiful.” She swallowed as the image came to her without any difficulty; Regina laying stretched out on her bed, legs lightly crossed, the swell of her breasts perfectly visible in the complimenting nightgown.

“I walk over to the bed as you look at me and without a word, I press myself close to you, wrapping my arm around your waist as I kiss you firmly, letting you know that I have missed you and that I have been thinking about you.” Emma swore she could hear Regina sigh.

“I kiss you again, and again, and then I lick your lips, hoping you will part them so I can kiss you the way I really want to.” Emma added, cuing Regina to the fact that it was her turn to speak. She swallowed against the arousal already drying her throat.

“I… part my lips under yours and wrap my hands in your soft hair, pulling you close to me. I have been missing you terribly.” Regina confessed, and Emma’s heart jumped with joy. She could also feel Regina’s hands in her hair and remembered vividly how slipping her tongue into Regina’s mouth felt. She didn’t hide the moan that worked its way up her throat.

“I slide my tongue inside your mouth, moaning as you pull me closer. I let my hand run up your side, just brushing the side of your breast. I want to feel you shudder against me.” Emma pressed and this time, she did hear Regina moan.

“I do…” Regina answered a bit breathlessly, and Emma smirked a happy smirk before continuing on with this scenario.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you yet, so I slide my tongue over yours a bit more urgently as I press my leg between yours. I love how soft you are… how good you taste.” It was easy to give compliments like this—while describing the situation and not actually being part of it. She already had to use her words, what was the harm in saying some of the things she had been dying to say for moths but had never dared?

“I press my hips into your leg, desiring to feel more of you against me, and kiss you back harder, battling your tongue until mine slides in your mouth. You are wearing entirely too much clothing, my dear, so I slide my hands from your hair down to your chest and push your jacket down as far as it can go while you are supporting yourself… and touching me.” Emma grinned; Regina was definitely getting into it now. Good, because she could feel how wet she was and it would suck if Regina stopped.

“I push myself up a moment so I can pull off my jacket and take off my shirt as well. Bra too?” she questioned. Regina’s answer was instantaneous.

“Yes…”

Emma fumbled with the phone while she undressed the top half of herself at break-neck speed. 

“Okay, it’s off. Slowly, I lower myself back down, but this time I cup my breast and bring it to your lips…” Emma said, the alcohol quenching any shame she might have felt at this blatant display of her desire. She heard Regina’s breath hitch and revelled in the darkness of her voice when she finally spoke.

“Quickly, I accept your offering, sucking you… nipple—” a note of embarrassment that quickly passed. “…into my mouth and lapping my tongue against it. I adore your breasts, Emma. They are so responsive, so open to my touch. They always were.” Regina offered, and Emma felt a different kind of warmth spreading through her system; the warmth of feeling loved. Not wanting to linger on that right now, she cleared her throat as she pictured the sensation of Regina’s mouth on her breast, and cupped her right breast happily, running her thumb over the stiffening nipple in slow flicks that resembled Regina’s favourite move. She groaned in desire, and Regina moaned with her.

“You always feel so good when you do this to me…” Emma admitted, eyes firmly closed. “I don’t ever want you to stop, but you are overdressed too, and I want to feel your skin against mine. I pull away and slide off of you a moment so you can take off your clothes.” 

“Underwear too?” Regina asked, her voice deliciously dark.

“No, leave that on for now, unless you’re wearing a bra. That needs to come off. What kind of underwear do you have on?” Emma instructed and asked, resisting the urge to touch herself where she really wanted it.

“A black lace thong,” Regina replied. “It matches the nightgown.” She added, and then Emma just heard rustling for a moment as the garment—or garments—were discarded. The dark haired woman told her the clothes were off, and Emma grinned.

“Good,” she said happily and with a note of seduction to her voice. “I wait until you lie down again, and slide on top of you, leg pressed into your panties. I wish I could feel if you are wet, but you sure do feel warm against me. I kiss your lips again quickly and then trail kissed down your jaw and neck, over your chest until I can reach your breast. Teasingly slowly, I slide my tongue over your skin, circling your nipple, but never actually touching it. I want to hear you asking for it.” Emma pushed, feeling brave all topped off with liquid courage. Regina didn’t resist her.

“Please, Emma, suck it…” Regina’s needy voice whispered in her ear and Emma thought she would come there and then. She decided to push her luck.

“I resist a little longer, making you want it just a little more. I want to feel you push up against me, into me… I want you to take what you want from me.” Emma hardly recognised her voice anymore; it was deep and dark with desire, and Regina seemed to react to it beautifully; she groaned in need.

“Alright…” Her voice sounded shaky. “I once more wrap my hands in your hair as I press my body up into yours. I make you take my nipple into your mouth. Now, Emma, reward me for doing what you wanted me to.” 

Now it was Emma’s turn to groan.

“I suck your nipple roughly into my mouth as I press my leg down into your… pussy.” Okay, that was definitely awkward, but Regina didn’t contend the word; she could only hear laboured breathing on the other end of the line. Alright, ‘pussy’ it was. 

“I lap my tongue against your nipple before raking my teeth over it, feeling you press against me harder. All I want is to make you feel good…” Emma whispered, her voice failing a little as she struggled with her desire and emotions.

“You always make me feel so very good, Emma.” Regina reassured her with a tone meant to encourage her to go on. 

“Good,” Emma purred happily, before returning to her dream scenario. “I bite down softly on your nipple as I push my leg into you—” Regina groaned with such desire, Emma could immediately picture Regina, on her bed, pinching her nipple roughly at Emma’s words. It sent a spike of arousal down to her core that was so great, it momentarily dazzled her.

“Don’t stop.” Regina encouraged and Emma forced her mind back on their fantasy.

“I won’t.” She promised, and licked her lips. “With a last gentle tug, I let go of your nipple and lick my way to the other one, taking it in my mouth and playing with it in the same way as I did with the other one. My hand comes up to scratch lightly at your belly, sliding down teasingly slowly before going back up, and repeating.” Emma continued, almost feeling Regina’s skin under her fingertips, and her rock hard nipple in her mouth. She was not going to last much longer, but then again, neither was Regina, of that the blonde was sure.

Regina was panting now, groaning with every well-placed word. She must be giving it her all, Emma mused, and once more, the imagine of Regina touching herself appeared in her mind’s eye. She longed to be there, to slide her hand into warm wetness, but she couldn’t; she didn’t even have a car. Hearing Regina bring herself to orgasm was going to have to do.

“I—I slide my hands down your back, sinking my nails into your ass to push you harder and faster against me. You drive me wild, Emma. You always do—you have always done so. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. I know you can’t feel it—through your jeans, I mean—but I am so wet for you. You arouse me so, my dear Emma…” Again, desire and love warred in her, and again, Emma let her desire win out. 

“Fuck, Regina…” She panted, but there was nothing negative in the tone of her reprimand. “I move off of you a moment and hurry out of the rest of my clothes…”

Emma quickly did as she had promised, fighting her boots for a while, until she finally got them off. She peeled off her socks and jeans, and added her boyshorts for good measure.

“Okay, done. Completely naked, I return to you, gently taking off your panties as well. I bring them up to my nose for a second, inhaling your scent deeply and feeling how wet our panties are. I can’t wait to taste you, Regina… and why should I wait?” Emma questioned hotly, hearing Regina groan at the other end of the line. She was sure the other woman had ridden herself of her last remaining clothing item by now. 

“Licking my lips, I sit up between your legs and press them apart slowly, exposing you to me. You are so beautiful, Gina. You always take my breath away. I can see how much you want me in your eyes, in the way you are breathing… I can tell by the wetness that covers your lips. You can’t see it now, but I am so wet for you as well. Everything you just said… you do that to me as well. I want to taste you so badly.” Emma confessed, and it didn’t feel awkward. In fact, it felt pretty damn good.

“Please, Emma, please. I want you to taste me… I want to feel your lips, your tongue…I love everything you do to me but when you do… that, when you use your mouth on me...” Regina couldn’t finish the sentence, and Emma briefly wondered if she was already touching herself. It didn’t matter, she was going to give her permission in the next few seconds anyway.

“I get comfortable on the bed, lying down so I can kiss my way up your inner thigh. I bite softly and I know you like that, because you always shudder when I do it. Then, I lick my way up, and God, you smell so good. I just want to taste you… so I do. I press my tongue flat against your pussy and press against you—“ a load moan on the other end of the line, and Emma faltered in her desire. She wasn’t embarrassed at all now; she just wanted to hear that sound again.

“I moan as I finally taste you, and withdraw my tongue, finding your clit with my lips and sucking on it. That’s it, Regina, moan for me. Let me hear what I’m doing to you. I want to drive you absolutely crazy…” Emma encouraged as more and louder moans and groans met her hungry ear. 

“I swirl my tongue against you, drinking everything you have already spilled, lapping at your entrance. I love doing this to you, I love watching you as I do this to you. I know I’m completely covered in you by now and I love that too. Again, I suck your clit in my mouth, trapping it with my lips and flicking my tongue over it again and again, making you buck against me. I can feel your hands in my hair now, holding me close. Tell me Gina, do you want more, or should I only use my mouth on you?” Emma asked hotly, pressing her legs together to relieve some of the desire between her own legs. She could taste Regina in her mouth, could feel her against her… If she didn’t open her eyes, she could almost think it was real—that was how involved she was at this point. Regina’s unrestrained sounds of pleasure went straight to her core and she was sure she was equally wet as she pictured Regina to be.

“This… is good.” Regina finally answered and Emma smiled. Regina really did like it when Emma got her off with just her mouth.

“Okay. Okay, then we’ll do that.” She agreed readily. “Sliding lower with my tongue, I press my tongue against your wet entrance, pressing as deeply as I can, just a little bit into you, fucking you with my tongue. Oh God… that sounded so hot. Let me hear you again. Fuck, Gina. How close are you?” Emma could feel her own pressure building as Regina’s deep voice broke half way through a guttural moan that promised to be Emma’s undoing. She knew the answer to her own question; she knew Regina’s sounds by now. 

“Fuck… Emma… so close…” Regina promised her, and it sounded as if Regina was restraining herself not to come already. Well, she could. Emma wanted her to, badly. She wanted to hear the dark haired woman shout out her name, hear her groan in orgasm, hear her give in completely.

“Good, that’s good. I want you to come for me, Regina. I want to hear you come for me. I know what you really like, don’t I? I know how I can make you come. I suck roughly on your clit, keeping you trapped, and moving my head to the side a little bit, again and again, while flicking my tongue against you. I know this drives you wild, because you have come for me like this so often. Why don’t you come for me, Gina? I want you to come for me. I bite your clit gently, and go a little faster with my tongue. I’m giving you everything, so come for me. Now, baby…” Emma whispered desperately, hotly, on the verge of orgasm herself. It took everything not to slip her hand between her legs and finish herself off. She only need a touch or two.

This proved doubly true when she very clearly heard Regina come for her. The woman was gasping for breath as she worked herself the last few steps towards orgasm. Emma listened as Regina’s breath caught. She smirked when she heard the tell-tale signs of the phone falling. It didn’t cut off her sound, though; she still heard Regina’s reverent utterance of her name and her heavy panting as she came down. Emma was feeling mightier than a king right now; she had done that to Regina, all the way from over here, with just her voice and her intimate knowledge of the woman’s body. If she thought her legs would be able to hold her, she would do a victory dance, but she wasn’t going to risk it. Instead, she waited patiently for Regina to realize the phone had fallen down and retrieve it.

“Emma…?” Regina sounded breathless, but very happy. Emma—still grinning like a fool—quickly reassured her.

“Right here. I love you so much. Listening to you… that was so beautiful. Thank you. Are you okay?” She asked, unable to keep the explosive content of her heart contained in light of the beauty of what they had just shared. 

“Yes, I am… I am very good, actually.” Regina sounded like she was blushing, which only widened Emma’s grin. “I love you too, so very much. And _thank you_.” Regina added, still completely out of breath. They were silent a moment as Regina got enough grip on herself to continue.

“You must be getting quite uncomfortable,” Regina continued, and Emma snorted. She wasn’t going to deny it, though; the steady throbbing had turned into a dull pain long ago and she wanted nothing more than to come. When Regina spoke again, the breathless devotion that had been it was upgraded to a mischievous purr.

“I will take care of you, miss Swan. I let you take your reward from between my legs before pulling you up and kissing you deeply. I taste myself on your tongue and moan against your lips. I find very few things more erotic than kissing you after you have just brought me to orgasm with those soft lips of yours that are capable of bringing out the best in me. This is not a time to linger, though, because my need to bring you to orgasm is overwhelming me. I want to make you feel as good as you have made me feel just now.” Emma listened breathlessly as she easily pictured everything Regina told her. The brunette’s words touched her in emotional ways as well, but she had no patience for that right now. She wanted to come so badly.

“Regina, please. Just… fuck me. I’m dying here.” She groaned, and Regina chuckled.

“Very well, Emma. Very well. I roll us over, settling against your side as I keep kissing you deeply. My hand slides over your breasts, giving each nipple a fast tweak before moving down between your legs. My breath hitches when I feel how wet you are for me and I waste no time, only pausing a few moments to rub your clit with two fingers, finding it hard to get a perch as you are so very slippery.” Emma, who had let her hand follow the path Regina sketched, had to agree with her; it was almost impossible to rub herself, she was just too slick. 

“Then… don’t.” Emma groaned out, aching to fill herself with her fingers. She just needed Regina to say it, to give her permission to do so. Regina seemed to read her perfectly.

“I won’t tease you… this time.” Regina spoke, evilly, and Emma was horrified to hear the huff she had intended to come out of her mouth transform into a needy whine instead.

“I slide my fingers lower and while I capture your nipple with my mouth, biting down roughly, I slide two fingers deeply inside of you. It’s so easy; you are so wet. I can slide in and out of you without any resistance at all.” Regina’s voice was like liquid sex at this point, and Emma was completely lost. She had one hand firmly on her breast, rolling her painfully stiff nipple between her fingers, and two fingers of her other hand sliding in and out of her pulsing pussy. Regina had been right again; it was so easy. Within a few strokes, Emma was on the edge of orgasm, and after what had just transpired, she felt no shame in that.

“G—Gina… I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, she could only move in and out of herself, stimulate herself, her hips meeting her hand with every thrust. She was already coming, no matter what Regina said or did now. She tried to fight it, but she couldn’t. 

“Come for me, Emma. Let me hear you come. I press harder and faster into you, rubbing your clit with my thumb, feeling your walls grip my fingers tightly as you come for me…” Regina gave Emma her blessing to come, and Emma sobbed in gratitude and desire. Finally letting herself go, she felt her body go stiff, her mind blanking in the face of the pleasure her fingers—Regina’s fingers—were provoking. For a moment, there was nothing but pleasure, and Emma rode the waves of it as long as she could, groaning out Regina’s name on repeat as soon as she passed the peak. She had never come like this when she was alone—but she wasn’t alone, was she? Regina was right _there_ , coaxing this orgasm out of her.

For a second, Emma thought she was going to pass out. She didn’t, but it took a long time to recover from this insane sort of self-induced stroke she had just experienced. By the time she remembered her phone, she also became aware of a small voice speaking her name, somewhere to her left. She searched for the phone bonelessly, unable to open her eyes. When the cooling device finally met her fingers, she pulled it up with the greatest of effort.

“I’m here.” She rasped. “Sorry.” 

“I feared something had happened to you.” Regina said, obviously only half joking. 

“I may have had a stroke, I’m not sure. I can wiggle my toes, though, so I think I’ll recover.” Emma answered, still out of breath. Regina chuckled.

“Good to hear, Miss swan.” She sassed, before her voice changed. “Why don’t you go and sleep off the alcohol. I know you are working tomorrow.”

Emma groaned.

“What time is it…?” She questioned. There was a short pause.

“A little past three AM.” Regina said and Emma groaned again.

“I am never getting up on time.” She whined. Regina laughed and Emma glared at her through her eyelids and the phone.

“I’ll call you at eight and help you wake up.” Regina promised and Emma mumbled a ‘thank you’. Her orgasm and the alcohol were taking their toll on her, even though her fingers slipping through wetness were still giving her very enjoyable sparks of pleasure.

“I love you, Gina.” She said happily, already sounding half asleep. “Thank you for… you know… this.” She added lightly, but she meant it. She hadn’t really been thinking when she suggested it, but she was sure this was out of Regina’s comfort zone, and she had jumped right in because Emma seemed excited by the idea. 

“I enjoyed it very much, Emma. Thank you for suggesting it… even though you are drunk and probably asleep by now.” Regina answered. Emma frowned.

“Am not…” She defended herself, but it came out more of a mumble than actual words, and they most certainly did not carry the accusatory tone Emma had meant to place in them. Okay, yes, maybe she was half asleep already. Grumbling, she moved so she was lying under her blankets while Regina told her to go to sleep. That she would talk to her tomorrow. Emma nodded, then hummed her agreement. She was quickly losing her grip on the phone, and she stopped trying to force her eyes open. Despite her good intentions, she was asleep before Regina got to say goodbye.


	5. It Only Hurts Because It’s Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay; Swan Queen Week interfered. If you would like to read my submissions for that, they are all uploaded here. This chapter was written to Death Cab for Cutie's 'Someday You will be Loved'.

It took Emma a good few moments to react to the none-too-gentle intrusion of sound. She tried to fight the nauseatingly chipper ringtone Henry had programmed into her phone by knocking the offending device to the floor and burying her head under her pillow. Frustratingly, the noise continued until she blindly searched for the device again, expertly unlocked it with her thumb and brought it to her ear, letting it lie on her cheek as her hand fell away onto the mattress. She considered speaking, but decided against it; speech was reserved for the living, and she did not count herself amongst them at this very moment, lying naked and sprawled out on the bed while flat on her front. Her head was about to explode, and her tongue felt swollen. Fuck speaking.

“…Emma…?” There was a hint of amusement to the careful voice on the other end of the line, Emma noted, and she groaned in reply. At least Regina’s voice was nice to listen too… soothing and soft. And sexy. Flashes of last night’s conversation over this very telephone came to her mind and Emma wondered for a moment if she’d dreamt it. It was entirely possible; she didn’t even remember coming home, after all. 

“Did we have phone sex last night…?” She questioned, her voice slurred and gravelly enough to conjure visions of undead creatures who had somehow retained their ability to speak. There was an amused chuckle on the other end of the line, and Emma smiled lazily. Oh yeah, she had totally had phone sex with Regina Mills last night.

“Thought so…” She added. “Is this round two…?” 

“No, Miss Swan, this is your 8 AM wake-up call, as promised. You are supposed to be at work in an hour and thirteen minutes.” Regina announced a little too chipper, and it took Emma’s painful brain long seconds to notice the discrepancy to her words.

“Wait… if it’s eight… and I need to be at the station by nine… how do I have an hour and thirteen minutes left…?” She asked stupidly.

“Twelve now. And I assumed you would not answer on the first ring, and could probably use a bit more time than the hurried twenty minutes you usually leave yourself. You sounded properly intoxicated last night, and I am assuming you haven’t even tried opening your eyes yet, let alone entertained the idea of a good shower?” Regina explained logically.

“So…” Emma trailed off, trying to at least open one eye so she could prove Regina wrong. She failed so epically in her attempt, she rolled her eyes at herself behind her closed eyelids.

“…you woke me up earlier than absolutely necessary because you wanted to give me more time to wake up?” Emma questioned. Her voice betrayed that she was not happy with the current state of things, but Regina seemed unaffected.

“Something along those lines, Miss Swan.” She sassed, and Emma realized she was enjoying this exchange—hearing Emma like this—far too much.

“You are—” Emma stopped herself, swallowed the offending word that threatened to spill out, and fumbled for a replacement in the span of a second. 

“…mean.” She finished lamely, kicking herself for the compromised state her brain was still in. If the whispered conversations in the dark had taught her one thing, it was that the word ‘evil’ was never to be spoken to Regina, not even in jest. There wasn’t a single word in the English vocabulary that cut her deeper than the word ‘evil’ did, and Emma had made it her mission to remove it from their conversations entirely unless the word was accurate and unavoidable. It very much was not here.

Emma was sure Regina had noticed her faltering, and she could probably deduce what Emma had wanted to say. For a few, long, heartbeats, Emma listened to the sound of nothing on the other end of the line, but then she caught a quiet sigh.

“I am only trying to help you, Emma.” Regina said, and Emma’s heart swelled with pride as she heard the wounded edge to Regina’s voice—pain, not anger, not defensive bull crap. She smiled despite herself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. My brain isn’t on yet.” She mumbled soothingly, and this time, the sigh was far more relaxed.

“I know.” Regina said softly, and there was a note of a smile to her voice. Emma debated analysing the situation, but felt that topic would better be served with face-to-face time. A topic that she surely would _not_ be bringing up face-to-face presented itself to her sluggish brain, and she groaned.

“What is it?” Regina questioned immediately, and Emma once more debated herself. Sighing, she brought her hand up to the phone to hold it in place as she rolled onto her back, now indeed slowly blinking her eyes open. She tried to speed through her wake-up process so she could have this conversation—or at least the introduction to it.

“I uhhh… Ruby… said something. Last night.” Emma started, trying to find a good angle to get this subject on the table without making it sound like a damn marriage proposal.

“Yes…?” Regina requested when Emma fell silent.

“She uhhh… she said that maybe… what’s between us…? That it could be… you know… True Love.” There, the big words. True fucking Love. Emma exhaled and shut her eyes again, trying to gauge Regina’s reaction. When no answer was forthcoming, Emma blinked her eyes open again and checked the phone to see if she was still connected. She was.

“Gina?” She asked, a little scared now.

“I’m here, Miss Swan.” Regina answered, and Emma immediately realized something was wrong. That was not the teasing ‘Miss Swan’ that was slowly creeping back into their conversations. This situation deserved an ‘Emma’, and she was damn sure Regina knew that. The blandness of her voice cemented Emma’s fears: Regina was upset. With her blood pounding in her ears from a mixture of fear and pain, Emma sat up, phone clenched to her ear and cheek. She mellowed her voice.

“Gina… talk to me, please. Don’t shut me out. What did I say wrong? It’s okay if you don’t think we are… you know… _that_. We don’t have to be.” Emma tried, but she knew it was useless. Instinctually, she knew that she had stumbled head-long into a trigger and she cursed herself for doing this over the phone with her head barely cleared of last night’s alcohol consumption.

“You should prepare for your day, Emma. We will speak… later.” Regina answered, now using her name as a shield, before hanging up the phone. Emma groaned and lowered the offending device, letting herself fall back onto the mattress as she tried to find the patience to deal with a situation like this, as well as her own stupidity.

By the time she made it downstairs for breakfast, Emma was in a foul mood. She was pretty sure she had done nothing to deserve this treatment by Regina, and she had also realized that whatever it was that had triggered Regina was something from her past, so Emma had shifted her anger from herself and Regina onto the person or persons who had harmed Regina to such an extent that the mere mention of True Love in relation to her was enough to send the brunette into a tailspin of self-destructive emotions. Emma was not amused.

Sitting herself heavily down in one of the barstools in the kitchen area, she watched Mary Margaret make breakfast and gratefully accepted a mug of scalding coffee as she wished her mother a good morning. Emma had managed to drag herself into the shower and do a decent enough job dressing herself, but right now, she was mostly hoping that the aspirins she had forced down her throat the second she came out of bed would kick in soon. Her head really was killing her, and she vowed—again—never to drink unless she had the day off the next day.

“Can I get you anything else…?” Mary Margaret tried, and Emma smiled a little at the familiarity of the underlying message: _I’m too polite to say it, but you look like warmed over crap._ Emma figured it was probably true; she felt like it. Inhaling the scent of the brew in the mug she was clamping down on, Emma shook her head.

“Oh, wait, actually… I really need a ride to the station. I think my car is still at Ruby’s… or well, at the diner by now, probably.” Emma corrected herself. Ruby had left her a text message detailing their car arrangement—something Emma was grateful for, because that part of her night was foggy, at best. She had only seen the message because she had shot Regina a text after waking herself up with a shower as long as the hot water reserve had permitted. 

‘ _I’ll come by tonight, we’ll talk. I’m sorry I triggered you._ ’ She had sent after careful deliberation with herself. She had deleted a good few other messages which had either been too emotional or which could have been interpreted as stand-offish. She hoped this one was neutral, yet accepting. She had wanted to let Regina know that she at least understood that this wasn’t Emma’s doing and that she understood Regina needed time to figure her reaction out. Truth be told, Emma was quite proud at herself for even figuring out this wasn’t about her and not being personally offended. Sure, it had been her first reaction, but if she had realised anything in her time with Regina, it was that the person who hurt Regina most was Regina herself.

“Of course, Emma. I’d love to take you to the station.” Mary Margaret interrupted her musings, and Emma smiled. No matter what, Mary Margaret was there for her in a bind. It was just the ‘mom’-part that was troubling.

“Did you have a good night with Ruby…?” The pixie haired woman added, obviously trying to mend bridges. Despite her foul mood, and despite her headache, Emma had to admit that not fighting with Mary Margaret was an appealing prospect, and she settled her eyes on the woman in front of her.

“I did, thanks. She said to give you a hug, and that she is looking forward to Friday.” She fibbed, and watched her mother’s face light up a little. 

“I look forward to it, too.” She promised, and Emma smiled. 

“I have a killer headache, though.” She confided in her mom. “I think I’ll pass a Breathalyzer test, but you have no idea how much I needed this cup of coffee.” 

Mary Margaret chuckled as she directed her daughter to the dining table. Emma slipped off of the high chair and onto the most comfortable of the miss-matched dining chairs before wishing Mary Margaret a good breakfast. Mary Margaret smiled at her happily through a mouth full of scrambled eggs that made Emma’s stomach turn. She was sure Regina would have silently forced her to at least eat a piece of fruit, but she had no desire to attempt that feat today.

“What is on your schedule today?” Emma asked, preferring to let Mary Margaret fill the silence than attempt to herself. Mary Margaret emptied her mouth completely before opening her mouth to speak, something Emma found so endearingly linked to the brunette, she smiled into her coffee. It was good to have things at least slightly mended between them. She really did miss having Mary Margaret as her friend—which was what made having her as a mother so hard.

“I have a hand full of meetings planned to get the budgeting straightened out for the second half of the fiscal year, and a lot of paperwork to sign off on.” Mary Margaret answered with a note of resignation to her voice, and Emma cocked an eyebrow.

“I thought you liked this whole being Mayor thing?” She asked kindly, more in tune with the world now the medication started to take hold—or perhaps just the coffee.

“Oh I do, don’t get me wrong, but it is a lot of work. I have no idea how Regina d—” Mary Margret’s offhanded remark devolved into a loaded gun at the speed of light, and the pixie haired woman quickly shut her mouth, wide eyes flying first to Emma, then to her plate of food in studious avoidance of her daughter. Emma felt her stomach plummet at the sudden chill that washed over their semi-pleasant morning. 

“You know… you could always let her help you out with some of the paperwork? She’s done it for twenty-eight years, after all, and she did a good job.” Emma tried softly. This was an opening to the subject she had not seen coming, but she knew how much Regina missed her duties as Mayor; the subject had come up frequently enough, after all. Mary Margaret refused to meet her eyes, and she took a deliberate bite to indicate she couldn’t answer. After a few moments of icy silence, Emma sighed audibly and stood.

“Just think about it. She could help, and you know it.” She added slightly stingy, protectiveness for Regina moving through her system along with annoyance at the way Mary Margaret fought anything to do with her daughter’s dark haired lover. 

“I’ll go get ready.” Emma concluded and walked off, shaking her head. This was going to be the longest short drive of her life, she guessed, and she was right. Mary Margaret refused to speak for the duration of it and only nodded when Emma amended her destination to the diner so she could pick up her car and more coffee first thing. A courteous ‘have a good day’ was the only thing exchanged between them, and Emma could not chase off the stab to her heart at the sudden souring of their relationship. 

Emma hated this; the hot-and-cold that was her relationship with her mother. In truth, much of it was probably related to the friendship she had lost with Mary Margaret. The woman had been so different than Emma, but when Emma had come to Storybrooke, Mary Margaret had been there for her. She had offered her a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to her problems with, and a smile to chase away the pain. The old Emma hadn’t had many friends, and none which were such good friends as Mary Margaret. She had never learned how to; moving homes, moving cities, staying on the move in general… friendship had simply not been part of her life. Losing that first, true, friend… it hurt. It hurt more than Emma was ready to admit on most days.

It was good to have a mother, good to have someone who cared for her well-being and told her to wear her jacket when it was cold out… but Mary Margaret had been her friend first. It was different with David; David had been friendly to her, welcoming, but mostly he was Mary Margaret’s illicit boyfriend. To accept him as her father was easier because she wasn’t losing anything. She _was_ losing something with Mary Margaret, and she wasn’t the only one; she knew Ruby felt the same. Girl’s night just wasn’t the same as before as a result, either. It had been alright just after the curse broke, but the last few had been a little awkward, with a mom in the room. Especially with all her secrets, Emma had not felt comfortable at all to drink and gossip. Even Ruby—who loved Snow and had history with her—was still adapting to this parental and often holier-than-though-person that Mary Margaret presented as now there were baby plans, Mayoral duties, and a child to mother.

Sighing, Emma watching Mary Margaret drive off and turned to enter the diner. Whatever was going to happen today, she was going to need coffee for it. Her headache had lessened before the new ice age had presented itself, but was now back in full force. Perhaps she would finally settle in for the paperwork which was long overdue. Stranger things had happened.

Ruby was already hard at work serving the morning clientele when Emma entered. Sparing her a mocking smile, the waitress disappeared into the kitchen for another load, leaving Emma to hang herself on the bar and observe the town’s folk as they ate. She exchanged a few greetings here and there, but the main people in her life were absent, so she was saved from too much social interaction. Deep in thought, she missed Ruby sidling up to her and jumped when the other woman leaned over to her from her side of the counter and in a chipper voice asked how the hangover was.

“The hell, Ruby?!” Emma questioned, pivoting in place, and finding a smirking Ruby waiting for her. “Don’t _do_ that, my head…” 

“Sorry.” Ruby sassed, completely unaffected except perhaps to be even more amused. “You know, I’m still thinking about those stories you told me. I was sort of joking when I said I’d ask you-know-who for pointers, but I’m starting to reconsider it.”

“What is she? Voldemort?” Emma huffed, but did look around to see if they were drawing attention. She actually did appreciate her friend’s consideration. Ruby rolled her eyes, but smiled understandingly. Ever since Ruby had opened up to her about what the curse had cost her, Emma had been unable to unsee the maturity and wisdom belying the goofy woman in front of her, and she was quickly learning never to underestimate the lengths Ruby would go to for a friend. The realization made her feel better about her current predicament.

“Anyway, not today. I messed up a little this morning so even if you see her… don’t? Please?” Emma followed through, watching as Ruby prepared her coffee without having to order it.

“Okay, promise.” Ruby said, and even though she was sporting her wolfish grin, Emma knew she wouldn’t say a word to Regina that wasn’t considerate and polite. “How are you?”

“Could be better. I messed up with… you-know-who over that _thing_ you said that I freaked out over last night, and then Mary Margaret happened to bring her up and _that_ did not go well. All of that on the one morning in like… a month… that I happened to have drank too much and am dealing with the mother of all headaches.” Emma groaned, gratefully accepting the large coffee that Ruby handed her along with her car key.

“Ouch… that sounds rough. Wait… did you just say you brought up—” Ruby leaned in conspiratorially, looking around to check if they weren’t overheard and then continued in a whisper. “True Love? With Regina?”

Emma groaned, resisting the urge to slam her head into the table. She nodded miserably.

“I just… wanted to ask. If she… agreed. And she hung up on me after going cold. I’m not sure what happened, but I’ll find out after work.” She shot Ruby a bit of a forced smile which did not hide the pain and insecurity she was feeling. Five PM was still a long way’s away. Before Ruby could answer, a customer called for her and she shot Emma an apologetic smile, tapping her hand a moment.

“Sorry.” Ruby apologized and rushed off, coffee pot in hand. Emma watched her go and sighed. Time to get to work. With a huff, she pushed herself off of the bar and headed out the door, making it to the curb before spinning around at her name. Ruby, coffee pot still in hand rushed up to her. Emma arched a brow as Ruby pulled to a halt.

“If you want… I only have a half shift… I get off after the rush… I could check how Regina is doing?” Ruby offered, her face betraying that Ruby herself may be more shocked at the current turn of events than Emma was.

“Ruby… you don’t have to—” Emma started, but Ruby grabbed her lower arm lightly with her free hand. With a smile, Ruby squeezed.

“No, it’s okay. I’m your friend and if she needs one, I can be hers as well.” Ruby smiled softly—shyly—and Emma found herself taking Ruby’s arm as well.

“No promises on how she reacts.” Emma warned softly, beyond touched at the offer, but slightly worried for her friend. 

“You trust her, don’t you?” Ruby asked quickly, glancing around to check if she wasn’t being summoned yet. Her voice had a serious note to it but it was—like the rest of this conversation—light in all other regards. Emma nodded.

“With my life. God knows she’s saved it enough.” Emma agreed with a note of amusement, but she meant it all the same. Ruby let her go and turned to head back before the customers could come out to ask for their refills.

“Then I’ll be fine.” She said, and Emma smiled, watching Ruby enter the diner before looking around for her beloved car. This—most likely—was not the smartest move she could ever make, but it was the only one that made sense at the moment. She’d better let Regina know, though, because after the term ‘evil’, the thing Regina hated most was a surprise.


	6. Bridges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written to Heather Nova's 'It's Only Love'. Also: with this chapter, Beyond Neverland has officially broken 100K!

Regina’s nervous fingers turned over the pack of cigarettes in her hands as she stared at it, hoping to strengthen her willpower enough to put them back where they belonged—in the bottom drawer of her desk as a reminder, not a tempt. Still, Regina was tempted today—more than ever in the twelve days since she had quit. Quitting had actually been a lot easier than she had imagined. Even during the bad days, she had only felt a light urge to reach for the unhealthy comfort. Today, though, she was seriously contemplating giving in.

Regina was aware her reaction to Emma this morning had been illogical, if not plain ridiculous; especially in the light of last night’s conversation. She had not been able to fight it, however. Emma was a wonderful young woman, but when it came to subtlety, the blonde was a menace. True Love… simply thinking the words made Regina’s need for a cigarette increase tenfold, and because the words had been on repeat in her mind ever since Emma had spoken them out loud, Regina had spent the better part of the day with temptation in the palm of her hand. At this point, even Regina had realized that it wasn’t so much the need for nicotine that kept her gravitating back to the package even though she had deposited it in her desk drawer multiple times already—it was the promise to Emma she could break so easily by literally burning that bridge.

It would be such a small act of rebellion, a preview of her usual _modus operandi_ where she pushed until people finally gave up pushing back and let her fall. To light up a cigarette would be the first push against Emma’s resolve to love her. The first bond broken. The first vow shattered. Giving up and letting go, because the alternative was scarier. 

True Love.

Regina had often wished for her happy ending, a fate kinder than she had been subjected too through years upon years of abuse of some form or another. She had thought about it when she was still a child and subjected to her mother, she had thought about it when Daniel had been murdered, she had thought about it when Rumpelstiltskin had fed her addiction to magic as well as her anger towards King Leopold, she had thought about it every night King Leopold had summoned her to his quarters, and every night after his death. During none of those times, love—let alone True Love—had been part of her happy end. 

Whenever she had envisioned her happy end, it had been about revenge, about getting respect, about finally rising above those who had oppressed her all her life—symbolised by Snow White and the people’s infallible desire to follow her, no matter what. Now, here in Storybrooke, after twenty-nine years of regular living in a world of grey, Regina understood why they had. She understood the rules of the Kingdom now, better than any of those she had brought over to this world. In the Enchanted Kingdom, she would never have been able to win over her subjects; from moment one, she was the evil stepmother, the antagonist Queen, forced into the role by her past. They had never loved her, and they were never going to love her. She would never have been able to rule over them; not with Snow White cast in the role of protagonist. It wasn’t their fault, and it wasn’t hers. 

Even before she had understood this, she had envisioned a happy end to her tale without love; first because of Daniel, then because of the darkness in her heart. By the time Daniel’s death had shifted from being her sole focus in life to one of the many instances in it that fuelled her anger, love had become an impossibility. Henry had filled up most of the hole in her heart left behind by a lifelong lack of the emotion being bestowed upon her—save for her father, but he had been a weak man, unable to protect her when she had needed it most, and against the person who had started the cycle of abuse—but somewhere along the twenty-nine years she had suffered through life in Storybrooke, she had come to realize that some varieties of love could only be bestowed by someone equal. No matter what her mother had thought. 

Then Emma had come crashing into her life, and although she had pushed all of Regina’s buttons and Regina had thought for a long time that she hated the blonde… she never had. She had been afraid of Emma’s influence in her life, of the consequences of the breaking of the curse, of what Emma summoned in her—the feelings she had long thought dead and buried—but she had never hated her. Her resistance to submit to her, the way Emma was completely _real_ with her; her reactions not controlled by any curse. Emma was like a breath of fresh air in her life, and Regina had reacted to her without conscious thought, gravitating towards her like a moth to a flame.

Love was weakness, and Emma, indeed, had made her weak. Every day she now spent with the blonde sheriff and second mother to her child, Regina felt herself letting go of more and more of the anger that had always driven her. An anger equal—if not more deadly—than that which her mother had carried with her without her heart to temper her. The stab of anguish that still tormented her over her mother’s death mere seconds after finally meeting her properly for the first time was enough to feel the anger flare up again, and Regina reached up to wipe away a tear from her stinging eyes. This was a void that would never be filled—a void that she had carried with her since childhood, but which had become so much more painful after recent events. Her mother had been a terrible woman, and she had been afraid of Cora her entire life—save for those few moments when she had held her just before her death. There had been no fear in her, nor anger; just love, and then it had been ripped from her so cruelly... like everything good in her life always was. 

Perhaps love, to Regina, had not been weakness per se—she had never examined the full scope of her mother’s motto. Examining it now like the pack of cigarettes still in her hands, Regina realized that the weakness her mother had meant was more insidious; having someone in your life who could be used against you, whose death could be a catalyst to your destruction. Weakness was opening yourself up to be hurt—Daniel, Henry, Snow White in a way… and now Emma. She counted her mother amongst these as well, because it had only been her love for Henry and her desperate attempt to return to his good graces that had stopped her from killing Mary Margaret after she had killed her mother—no, had Regina kill her own mother for her.

There was that anger again; simmering in her chest and taking away her breath, urging her to avenge her mother, to destroy Mary Margaret once and for all, to smoke the cigarette she had been contemplating smoking—hell, to smoke them all—because leaving oneself open to be degraded, used, and hurt surely must be a worse fate than being alone. Only it wasn’t; Daniel’s death—if anything—had taught her that. She hadn’t been happy as the Evil Queen, she hadn’t been happy as Mayor of Storybrooke, and she wasn’t happy now. Yes, Emma made her feel happy, but it was not a permanent state of being; more like a vacation of the self-imposed numbness that she got to take whenever the blonde was around her—when Henry was around her. When either of them were around, she wished to do better, to rebuild bridges, to grovel for forgiveness… and when they weren’t, she had to fight the darkness, had to fight her anger, had to fight her desire to break down everyone who had ever hurt her—chief amongst them Mary Margaret—and have them grovel before her, because no matter what she had done, she deserved apologies as well. 

Not feeling was a blessed alternative to feeling those emotions.

Good did not apologize to Evil, not even here, and—unless a bigger evil was revealed—Regina knew she would always be characterized as ‘evil’ by the majority of the Charmings and the town’s folk in general. She understood that now, and was at a place in her life where she could accept it. Operation Monarch Butterfly was a beautiful sentiment expressed by her partner and son, but it would never succeed; not on the scale they were envisioning. Regina would always be feared, always shunned, always hated to some degree, because one cannot erase the past. No matter how much one might like to do so. 

With a sigh, Regina reached down to open her desk drawer and carefully placed the packet of cigarettes in it before shutting it again. Folding her hands before her, she rested a heavy head on them as she stared off into the distance. Operation Butterfly needed a revision. She had never given it its due, but if she was not going to destroy her relationships with Henry and Emma, she needed to consider how it applied to her. For one, she could not remain in this state of flux, where she was afraid to leave the house, afraid to meet others, afraid of their opinions of her. She couldn’t withdraw like this; Emma deserved a better partner, and Henry deserved a better mother. How she was going to accomplish this feat without her well-worn armour, however, was going to be the challenge. 

Love truly did make her weak; it stripped her of her barriers, her walls, and left her vulnerable. It broke down her magic, her strength, and her pride. Since Henry had come into her life, love had been transmuting her into someone who cared for more than herself—or perhaps it was simply restoring what had always been there. She had not been born evil; she had sadly been born _into_ evil. Perhaps her mother’s heartless motto had a weakness of its own: it did not take into account the way love’s weakness did not make her feel weak at all. 

When she had denied herself the emotion, she had felt powerful, yes, but more than anything, she had felt dark—angry, petulant, entitled, bitter. Hurt. Now she was slowly—slowly—allowing herself to feel romantic love, an entirely new scala of emotions was opening up to her. Some were negative—guilt, fear, powerlessness, worry, disappointment—but others were elatedly positive: hopefulness, optimism, happiness, passion, and love itself. 

Perhaps there was strength in weakness, where the opinion of others no longer dictated her self-worth, where she could be happy regardless of the circumstances—as long as she had her family. Perhaps that was why True Love was the greatest good the side of good possessed: True Love could not be broken, could weather any storm, could take away the fear and doubt that accompanied love itself and wrapped around you like a blanket or a warm hug. True Love was, perhaps, not a state of being or an extra special form of love; it was an unconditional promise that there was one person in the world who was always in your corner, who would always have your back, and would never, ever leave. Perhaps more importantly, True Love meant you made the same vow. If that was True Love, then yes, perhaps she could imagine herself working towards it with Emma.

Regina realized she was smiling, and something fractured in her—another layer of the protective shell around her heart, perhaps—cracking under the weight of hope.

She was relieved she had not lit up that cigarette. 

Unable to deny herself the simple pleasure of a moment of Emma’s time in light of her revelation—something she could now stake a claim to as her partner; even though that thought alone still filled her with amazement—Regina found herself on her feet, crossing the house to the kitchen where she had left her phone after Emma’s text message this morning. She hadn’t been able to answer that, although she had appreciated the sentiment. She had been touched that Emma had understood that Regina had needed a moment, and that her pain had not been Emma’s fault. Again, her thoughts about True Love flitted through her mind, and she felt her smile widen. Yes, maybe. Maybe what she had—or would have—with Emma could grow to that level of commitment; even now Emma was not running from her when she shut down; she simply gave her space and the promise of comfort later on. She silently vowed that she would be there for Emma as well in this capacity, should the blonde ever need her to be.

She opened the phone to another text message from Emma. The discovery made her heart flutter, and she marvelled at her ability to feel this innocent elation. Her time with Daniel had brought this out in her as well, but what she had suffered through before that time was nothing compared to the pain the feeling now had to break through, and Regina did not downplay the importance of her butterflies. If she was going to be the partner Emma needed and deserved, she needed to build her armour with love, hope, and nothing else. She needed to transcend even the positive emotions she was now feeling—perhaps to a point where they led her to feel free and empowered, simply for being herself.

Opening the message, Regina’s heart skipped a beat or two—and not exactly in the positive sense. Yes, it was a message from Emma, but it was to inform her of an impending visit by Ruby Lucas to ‘check in’. Regina did not need to be checked in on, and most certainly not by a teenager like Ruby Lucas. Her blissful state faded in light of the belittlement Emma was displaying, and she smacked the phone down roughly, glancing at the clock to see how long she had before the werewolf was on her doorstep. She was shocked to find that she barely had any time left at all, fifteen minutes, at best. This infuriated her even more; what if she had not checked her phone and she had suddenly been confronted with Henry’s babysitter who was under the impression she had any right to even know about her fall-out with Emma this morning, let alone pass judgement over it?

All thoughts of calling Emma fled her mind as Regina looked herself over. She was very much underdressed for this meeting that Regina vowed would last no more than a few words from her side. With resolute strides, Regina marched upstairs and searched her closet for dark slacks, a white blouse from her Mayor days, a black blazer, and a matching tailored jacket. She changed quickly, checked her hair, applied her make-up and slid into heels that would at least cancel out some of the height difference between her and the lanky waitress. It was like dressing for combat, and it felt so natural to do so, Regina did not question it at all. It was easy getting lost in her own defensive mechanisms, her mind and heart unfamiliar with being cared for and fussed over by loved ones. All Regina felt was betrayal and annoyance... and her old companion, anger.

By the time the doorbell rang, Regina fluffed her hair one more time, smiled her power smile at herself, and slowly headed downstairs. She opened the door to a nervous-yet-defiant looking Ruby, still dressed in her waitress outfit, but with a comfortable looking cotton work shirt over it—red, of course. Regina settled her with a death glare and a fake smile.

“Miss Lucas, your arrival was announced, but your presence is not appreciated. Tell Miss Swan the next time she wants to ask after my well-being, she may do so herself and not through a middleman. Good afternoon.” She sassed easily, moving to close the door on a wide-eyed Ruby. The counter pressure on the door that suddenly appeared surprised her, and even more so when it overcame her own resistance. Finding it undignified to force the door shut now Ruby had obviously decided to fight her, she let the door open again, and now Ruby’s face was not nervous, nor wide-eyed. The woman’s eyes had narrowed a tad dangerously, and Regina felt herself rise to the occasion instantly, a deadly smirk rising to her red painted lips.

“First off, I volunteered for the job, and second of all, come off it, Regina. I listened to three hours of Emma going on about how good you are in bed. I know you like to be held at night, I know you have nightmares, and I know that you are struggling now. Most of all, I know Emma loves you, that she is in love with you, and from what she told me, you feel the exact same way. You can be mad at her for caring enough about you to worry when she messes up, but it won’t do either of you any good. So, because I got Emma in this mess, I’m here with a proverbial olive branch—no movie, no pretences—because we are both too old to play this game when there is something better on the table.” Ruby's voice was challenging, but not antagonizing, and Regina was forced to listen to her words because of it.

“And what is that?” Regina asked icily, hiding the way her heart was pounding in her throat at Ruby’s uncharacteristically blunt and bold behaviour—although, was that really so out of character for her?—at the embarrassment she felt over her words, and over the anger that welled up at Emma’s betrayal of her trust.

“Friendship.” Ruby declared, and Regina was shocked into silence a moment before a rich laugh welled up in her. She wondered if the anger and brave posture of the woman before her was simply a facade, or if she truly felt this way—Ruby’s stance was challenging, feet apart for balance, hand still on the door, hair tumbling down her tilted head, jaw set. Ruby had come here on a mission, and Regina—despite not wanting to admit it—was sure Ruby had, indeed, come without prodding from Emma. This had nothing to do with Operation Monarch Butterfly; Ruby was here because she wanted to be. Unfortunately, Regina was not accustomed to stepping over anger, pain, and embarrassment.

“Who says I am in need of a friend, Miss Lucas, and that—even if I did—you would qualify for the position?” She jabbed, tapping easily into her defensive reserves and loosening her stance to portray an air of unaffectedness while on the inside her newly acquired feelings were screaming at her to stop, to think before falling into the same trap she always fell into: her own pride and insecurity, covered for by menace.

“I’ve seen you with Henry, Regina. I have listened to Emma go on about how you are when you are not this—this guarded, defensive, victim. You are better than this.” Ruby challenged, her voice losing much of its venom, and Regina felt the impact of her words like a punch in the face. She set her jaw, quenching the voices inside that told her to back off, to give in.

“I am not a victim. I was never a victim.” She gritted out, now actively pushing against the door in an overwhelming desire to end the exchange, but Ruby held the door open with a single outstretched arm and dark eyes that did not waver. Regina cursed the strength that Ruby had inherited down her family line. Changing tactics, she let go of the door, causing Ruby to stumble, and turned around to walk deeper inside her fortress, hoping to scare off the wolf girl. Turning her back on her adversary was a powerful feeling, but she was not in control of the situation—she was not used to fighting on an emotional battlefield; magic she could do, death and weapons she could do, but Ruby wasn’t playing fair: she had insider knowledge of Regina’s weakest moments, shared with her by Regina’s trusted lover.

Ruby followed her inside, closing the door behind her. Regina met her head-on in the hallway as Ruby ascended the steps. She examined the waitress before her, trying to find out why this was happening, why Ruby had volunteered as she said, and how she could finish this exchange on top.

“Of all of us, you were probably the biggest victim of all.” Ruby said, halting herself with one foot on the floor and the other still on the last step. Her hands were up a little, in an appeasing way, and Regina—who was more accustomed to kindness now than ever before due to the intimacy she had shared with Emma—recognised Ruby’s willingness to give Regina her space and a chance at familiar ground. She purposefully put herself in a less threatening stance so Regina could feel a bit more at ease. It worked, Regina realized, as did Ruby’s words.

“I am not a victim.” She repeated, but she could hear the slight waver in her voice, and she hated herself for the weakness it showed. She shifted uncomfortably in the silence that followed. Ruby shifted gears.

“When I was four, I accidentally set fire to the barn, and Granny still thinks she did it herself. I have a stuffed animal left over from the days of the curse, a little lamb that I sleep with when no one is with me, and when someone is there, he sleeps in a box under the bed, on a pillow. Ever since the curse broke, I have been sleeping alone. Both my mother’s death and my boyfriend’s were my fault, and there is not a day that goes by since the curse broke that I don’t think about them. When I make a kill in wolf-form, I always imagine it’s Gold’s throat I’m ripping out because that’s what flashes through my mind every time I see him with Belle.” Ruby spoke the words softly, letting them hang gently in the hallway. Regina frowned, and Ruby met her eyes, a glimmer of embarrassed amusement in her eyes, mixed with underlying pain.

“I figured you were entitled to a few embarrassing and painful secrets of mine after what Emma told me. Maybe we’re not quite even yet, but you can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer truthfully until you feel we are.” Ruby added, and her lips curled up into a tell-tale Ruby grin. Regina found herself returning it instinctively, and as easily as that, her anger dissolved in the face of another person showing weakness towards her. The sting of Emma’s actions remained, but she regarded the brunette before her and realized that she wasn’t a threat. That for once—for God damn once—maybe having someone go to bat for her and _letting them_ wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked curiously, pleased that the emotional turmoil inside of her was not reflecting in her voice. Ruby lowered her hands a little.

“Emma is my friend, and I think you and I—I think we might understand each other better than either of us realizes. From what Emma told me—” Her hands came up again, possibly at the darkness that Regina felt flashing over her features. “…you have been having a rough time and I want to help if I can. If you want me, I can be your friend as well, Regina. Not out of pity, or out of loyalty to Emma, but because I think we can be good for each other. I could use someone in my life who I can have an honest conversation with about the parts of my past I tend to gloss over with others because they either down-play them or pity me. Sometimes, that's not what I need.”

Regina could understand that, although the irony of the situation was not lost on her; Ruby came to her to discuss the dark no one would allow her, while Regina had the same issue with the light side of her personality. She relaxed her stance a little, trying to feel out the tension between them. 

“You’re Snow’s friend, Charming’s friend.” She answered, purposefully using their original names. "You are on the side of... good, for lack of a better term. Why risk that to come to me?"

Ruby sighed, running a hand through her hair before taking the final step that landed her on the landing. Regina let her.

“Things were different then. _we_ were different then. I have Ruby’s memories now, Snow has Mary Margaret’s, Charming has David’s and you… I have memories of you in the diner, around town, doing your morning walks. I remember you with Henry when he was a child, I remember babysitting him a few times. You and I were never close, but I have memories of you pretending to be happy any time you were not with Henry, and even with Henry, you sometimes faked it. There's grey here in Storybrooke, and I'm done pretending that there isn't.” Ruby tried to explain. 

“Don’t get mad again, but I think you realized the curse was as much a trap for you as it was for us very early on and… maybe… maybe you were relieved when it ended. Mary Margaret told me about what you said in Neverland, about not regretting anything? I think that you meant that—because Henry is everything to you—but… and I’m just going to hope this doesn’t earn me a fireball to the face—” Ruby smirked, and Regina allowed the corner of her mouth to curl in recognition of the friendly jab at her expense—something she oddly did not mind, most likely because she was surprised by the insight Ruby was displaying.

“…but I think you do have regrets. Everything was worth it in the end because of Henry, but if there had been any other way to get to this point and still have Henry, I think you would have done it.” Ruby finished. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.” She challenged, and Regina sighed.

“You are not wrong, Red.” She answered truthfully. “There was no other way, though. I did what I did, and I do not regret it.” A challenge, perhaps, or a prayer for forgiveness?

“I know, but it still shows that deep down, you care about what happened in the Kingdom, about what happened here. I’ve made plenty of mistakes in both lands and I never had to answer for any of them because there were always people there to help me. I ate my boyfriend, for God sakes. I know your list is longer, but ever since the curse broke, I have been wondering if—had anyone been there for you the way they were for me—if you would have ended up here. If any of us would have.” Ruby’s voice had gone soft now, void of amusement, and Regina felt tears stinging behind her eyes. She wouldn’t allow herself to cry in front of the younger woman, but she could not deny she felt touched by the words.

“I have often wondered that myself.” She allowed herself to say, and took stock of Ruby again. How old was she? Probably in her forties by now? How much did she remember from her days as Ruby? She had never had the opportunity to find out how the citizens of Storybrooke dealt with the double memories and how much of both lives they were aware of. No one had ever indulged her in the conversation, and rightly so. It hadn’t stopped her from being curious, though.

“I figured.” Ruby answered her. 

“I’ve always had people who were there for me, and I think that after all this time, you deserve that as well. Henry, Emma, Tink… Kathryn, if you are willing… we would all like to be there for you. If you let us. That’s how friendship works. And yes, because Emma is my friend as well, we talk about you, not to hurt you, or embarrass you, but because Emma loves you and she is happy and proud of what you have together. I know she got in trouble for bringing up True Love, but that’s my fault. The way she talks about you, Regina? I wish there was someone who’d talk about me like that.” Ruby trailed off a little, and after what Ruby had admitted to her previously, she could easily deduce she was thinking about a certain young librarian. 

The two were silent for a moment, and Regina used the time to come to a decision. She wasn’t entirely convinced this effort at friendship was going to work out—there was a lot of history to contend with, and their personalities did not exactly align—but Regina did not want to let go of a good thing now it was offered to her. Friendship was such a rare commodity in her life that she craved it without even knowing the full extent of the practice. She smiled and Ruby smiled in return. Regina did not want to run away from this, but she had concerns.

“Alright, I accept you offer, but I have one condition.” Regina agreed seriously, and Ruby cocked her head to the side, waiting for the condition to be stated. Regina resisted the urge to run her hand through her hair and instead took a steadying breath.

“In the…hierarchy of your allegiance, Snow White must come first. If you every have to choose, you choose her.” Regina demanded quietly, and she saw emotion flit across Ruby’s features too fast to identify. Ruby swallowed heavily, and a genuinely caring smile tugged at the wolf girl’s lips.

“That is not exactly how friendship works, but I catch your drift. Alright, deal. I agree to your condition.” Ruby said softly, and Regina could read the tearful emotion in the younger woman’s voice. Perhaps, Regina mused, Ruby was touched by the selflessness underlying the request? Regina wasn’t sure if the gesture was so selfless; for one it protected her own heart should Ruby ever have to decide, and secondly, she had no desire to antagonize Mary Margaret even further; the situation was hard enough for Emma as it was. Shaking her thoughts, Regina forced a smile to her features—something that went easier than expected. She switched subjects effortlessly as she extended a hand towards the entrance of the den.

“Can I interest you in a drink and a conversation? Who knows, if that works out, I might even extend a dinner invitation.” Regina offered, appeased now Ruby had agreed to her terms and they had sealed this deal on mutually beneficial grounds. Ruby laughed effortlessly at the playfulness in Regina’s tone. It was good to make someone laugh—someone who was not close enough to her to perhaps feel obligated to.

“Okay, sounds like a deal. I’d hoped we wouldn’t tear into each other, so I brought lunch. It’s in the car. If I walk out that door, will you promise not to try and slam it in my face again?” Ruby challenged, and Regina grinned good naturedly, marvelling at the ease of it. Perhaps she could do this after all.

“Presumptuous of you, Miss Lucas, but alright. Lunch does sound enjoyable. I’ll get us some plates and we will move our conversation to the dining room. You can leave the door open while you fetch.” Regina answered, purposefully alluding to Ruby’s dual nature. Ruby smirked.

“Cheeky…” She muttered, but let the comment slide, her voice completely without venom as she continued. “And here I went out of my way for a club sandwich.” 

Regina gave her a rare, genuine, smile as Ruby winked at her and turned around. The gesture of the younger woman going out of her way to provide the lunch item Regina had always enjoyed most at the diner, even if it was no longer on the menu, was not lost on her. Regina suddenly realized that Ruby’s offer for friendship was a kindness not many had bestowed upon her—and even fewer would pursue her friendship so forwardly now. As she watched Ruby descend the stairs and theatrically push open the front door fully—just to make her point—before heading to her car for the offered lunch, Regina realized she had one more person in her life whose expectations she should try to live up to from now on… one more person who would perhaps not punish her if she fell short of the mark, but encourage her to bridge the gap with their aid. One more weakness. It was a strengthening—if not somewhat petrifying—revelation that momentarily shocked her into motionlessness. 

By the time she heard the car door slam, she rushed to the dining room to set out two plates and eating utensils, before looking up to find Ruby in the hallway, brown paper bag in hand. Regina motioned her in, and Ruby entered, setting the bag down on the table. They exchanged a look of understanding—yes, this was odd, yes, this was not going to be easy, but they were both in now… and maybe it would work out. If it did, it could be a good thing for both of them, and Emma and Henry as well. That alone was reason to try. With that thought in mind, the two former enemies sat down for a meal neither of them had expected to share with the other, and Regina had to admit that it felt good to do so. Better than she might have imagined, if she had ever been able to imagine this at all.


	7. When The Bough Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly ashamed to say this was mostly written to 'The Monster' by Eminem ft. Rihanna.

Emma came home—she finally allowed herself the mental indulgence—to a very unfamiliar sight. Once a bouncing Henry had let her in, she accompanied him to the den where he hurried to his seat at the low table, lithely setting himself down on a pillow. Another pillow was occupied by a shoeless Ruby, the sleeves of her oversized work shirt pushed up to above her elbows, and a wide smile permanently plastered on her face. Regina was seated on the sofa, reclined into it, jacket deposited casually over the back of it. On the table sat a game board, and all three participants had a holder for their stones. Former Evil Queen Regina Mills, her adopted son, and Red Riding Hood were playing Scrabble; in a civilized—and rather enjoyable—manner, it seemed. Emma's mind was not quite sure how to process this information.

She wanted to be happy—after all, she had spent most of the afternoon worrying about her young friend’s wellbeing and her partner’s mental health—and this was a far better outcome than expected. Still, something about the scene before her was making her unbecomingly jealous. _She_ hadn’t played Scrabble with Regina and Henry, let alone have a normal family afternoon where it was all just fun. In fact, this was something she had pretty much never had. _Ever_. Walking in on it felt like something she wasn’t prepared for and brought back feelings of loss and anger at imagining Henry growing up without her. 

She had often wondered if he was happy, if he was being taken care of. She was grateful—even before knowing Regina—to whomever had taken him in and raised him… but on the other hand, she had hated the family she had envisioned as well, because they had been able to spend time with _her_ son. They had gotten to see him grow up, be happy, tend to him when he needed it… and yes, part of her had been angry at Henry for being happy without her. It was irrational and petty, and she wasn’t going to tell anyone this, ever, but there it was. Watching the display before her brought all of that back in one fell swoop, and like always, she pushed it down desperately.

There was more, though: she wanted to be needed. She wanted to be Regina’s saviour and she felt herself annoyed at her friend’s ability to calm Regina down enough to get her to sit down for a game of bloody Scrabble when just two words of yours truly had sent Regina into a tailspin of emotions just this morning. 

What the fuck was wrong with her?

Plastering a smile on her face, she observed the scene before her a moment longer so she could bury her feelings deep—deep—inside. She was Emma Swan, Ruby was her friend, Henry was her son, and Regina her partner. They were allowed to have a good time without her. It didn’t mean a damn thing. It didn’t mean they did not need her.

“Hey guys, having a good time?” 

Thank God, her voice sounded chipper enough. Exhaling without drawing attention to it, she tried to get her bearings back as Henry launched into an exposition about the game—something about how he had used to play it with Ruby when she babysat him, and how Ruby had only just remembered that now. Emma smiled a little easier, although his words stung. _Not his fault_ , she reminded herself as she wondered once more why she was suddenly so emotional. It was just… unexpected to walk in on this. 

Family had always been her greatest wish, and her biggest pain—and regret. 

Regina untangled herself from the couch and—with a pointed look at Ruby, and a quick ruffle of Henry’s hair—crossed to the door opening, taking Emma’s hand and pulling her outside of the den effortlessly. Emma let herself be guided, happy to be away from the scene before her, but confused all the same. Judging by the look Regina and Ruby had exchanged, this had been an arranged move, and that was worrying. She pulled the door shut behind them, and in an attempt to make everything make sense again, moved easily into Regina’s personal space, leaning in for the kiss Regina perhaps did not want to share with her in front of Ruby and Henry.

“Emma, stop.”

As if bitten, Emma recoiled, stepping back as her eyes flew to Regina’s. She had never been rebuffed for a kiss, not since Zero Hour anyway, and it hurt even though Regina’s voice has been soft and pleading. It hurt even more because she was already feeling a little off-kilter. 

“What…?” Emma questioned, a note of defiance entering her voice as a defensive mechanism. She’d had enough rejection to last a couple of lifetimes, thank you very much, and she didn’t need it from Regina as well.

“Please, sit with me a moment. We have to talk.” Regina pleaded, pulling her along to the staircase by their still interlocked hands—a hand Regina had refused to let go even though Emma had tried to pull it away. With her heart beating in her throat, Emma followed along, bracing herself for the fallout of whatever this was about—bracing herself to hit the self-destruct. As always. Regina pulled them down, and Emma sat, knees drawn up in front of her like armour.

“What’s going on, Regina?” She asked roughly, wanting to get this over with quickly—like ripping of a Band-Aid. She hated the words ‘we need to talk’. It had been a foster home staple, and it did not bring back the best of memories.

“First, let me apologize for this morning. I reacted disproportional to your question, and I was touched by the time you allowed me to process my thoughts and emotions. Thank you for that.” Regina squeezed the hand in hers, granting her a smile, but Emma barely heard it. She was waiting for the other shoe to drop, trying to shift her emotional focus from her own pain to this conversation that she—damn it—was not ready for.

“Now, before we return to the den… I have to tell you that… that you hurt me today, Emma. Deeply, in fact. Not by allowing Red—Ruby—to come over to confirm my well-being; I understand that now. Ruby has been very patient with me today, and she is a lovely woman. I understand why you feel comfortable around her.” Regina smiled lightly at her then, but Emma’s mind was still stuck on an earlier portion of Regina’s message. 

She had badly hurt Regina. 

Feeling the blood drain from her face despite the thundering of her heart, Emma licked her lips, settling wide eyes more firmly on the brunette before her. She racked her brain, and came up empty. Well, it probably had to do with Ruby somehow, and last night’s talk… or maybe this morning’s? She watched Regina struggle with her thoughts for a moment, and then take a deep breath of air.

“Emma… I don’t trust easily. You know this—you understand this. Opening up to others has always… caused me great pain.” Emma watched the older woman retreat into her shell for a moment, obviously caught in her memories, and slowly, Emma begun to realize where this was headed.

“Despite what our initial encounters may have impressed on you, I don’t share my body easily, Emma, and my heart even less so. I was taught my sexuality is a weapon, and that sex is a tool used to break and remake. You are aware, at least to some extent, of the abuse I have suffered when I was younger, and I know you are aware of the emotional scars it has left me with.” Regina gripped her hand tighter then, and despite not wanting to hear anything else about this subject, Emma squeezed back and remained silent. This was hard for Regina, and she deserved to be listened to, even if Emma was dealing with her own issues at the moment.

“Emma, my dear, with you it may have been about control when it started, but it was never about abuse. I was drawn to you the moment I saw you—not just sexually, but as a woman, a person. You evoked feelings in me I thought I had become incapable of—feelings I thought had been destroyed by my mother, by Leopold… by Rumpelstiltskin.” Dark eyes flitted to her then, eyes which had previously been inspecting their interlocked hands. Emma realized she did not know enough of Regina’s time with Gold to be sure, but those eyes alluded to a truth that Emma did not want to face. To be mentioned in the same breath as Leopold, and Regina’s own mother Cora—a subject carefully avoided until this moment—made Emma’s blood run cold. If she was reading Regina correctly, she was telling Emma that all three had not been solely emotionally abusive, but physically so. Perhaps even sexually so. Emma shivered as her mind finally dared to touch upon that truth, and she felt tears well up in her eyes. Regina smiled at her softly, exhaling audibly in relief that Emma seemed to understand.

“The most important people in my life before you arrived—save Henry, of course—had made me hate the intimacy between two people. For a while, I even followed in their footsteps, as I understood this was the way to rule and use my body, although I was never… I wasn’t like _them_. I was… searching… for warmth in a place I would never be able to find it.” Regina admitted, and the dark guilt on her face was heart breaking, even though the subject material fuelled Emma’s anger.

“Graham.” She concluded, unable to keep the touch of venom out of her voice. Regina nodded, unable to meet her eyes. A silence, then, as painful emotions were laid bare—emotions tied to memories suppressed between them in fear of shattering the bubble of love and safety. Whatever Emma had done, it must really have cut Regina deeply to evoke this discussion.

“Making love to you…” Regina started, tearful eyes finally connecting with Emma’s again. Emma wondered if Regina had chosen ‘making love’ over ‘sex’ in a conscious effort to distinguish the different experiences in her life. 

“It was never like that. I never… it never felt bad—I never linked it to… before.” Regina was struggling getting the words out, and it pained her to see the usually eloquent woman stutter through her sentences. Emma inhaled deeply, soothing her fight-or-flight reflexes, and squeezed the hand in hers again for support. Wherever this was going, it mattered, and she should listen to it. That’s what partners—lovers—did, no matter her fight-or-fright reaction to this entire conversation. 

“Good.” She offered, encouragingly, and Regina graced her with a soft smile.

“With you…” Regina finally pushed herself. “With you, it was—is—sacred. Pleasurable for the _right_ reasons. It was the first time I ever felt safe while exposing myself so much. I trusted you with my body, and you never once betrayed that trust. That’s why I finally allowed whatever it was between us to grow into more—to open my heart to you, and slowly, slowly, let you in. I have shared things with you—not just sexually, but about my past and person—that I have not shared with anyone else. I did so out of love, out of trust, and out of a desire to be closer to you.” Regina continued, and Emma could feel the core of the message coming closer. A shame-filled blush came to her features as she realized what this core was going to be. All the past tenses in Regina’s speech were worrying.

“This is about last night, about Ruby. Regina, I’m sorry. I never meant to—“ Emma started, but Regina cut her off with a gesture of her hand.

“Please…” She begged, and Emma nodded. She swallowed her apology down.

“I need you to understand… fully… because I know that you meant no harm. Ruby and I had a very good talk this afternoon, and your reveal of our personal life was part of that. She explained to me the finer points of friendship, about gossiping, and how it’s done not to hurt, but to bond and show pride at the situation at hand. I understand it on an intellectual level, but you need to understand, Emma, that nearly everyone in this town, and a few people especially, would take what we have and pervert it until it is a broken and painful thing, just because one of the parties involved is me. All my life, I have been taught not to love, because love is weakness—and yes, Emma, I know you do not agree. I don’t either, not fully, but there is a warning there.” Regina again held up her hand to silence her, and Emma, again, fell silent.

“Even outside of the external threat, the things I shared with you—both physically and emotionally—were only yours to know. They were—as it were—my gift to you, given freely and out of love. So while I understand on an intellectual level why you chose to share these details with Ruby, emotionally, it hurts me very much because it wasn’t easy for me to share any of it with you. To have my secrets, weaknesses, and insecurities shared so carelessly with someone who was one of my greatest enemies in the Old World feels like betrayal… and it makes me… angry, and sad, and very insecure to discover that this part of me is not safe with you, Emma. With you, the only person I trust—trusted, perhaps—with it.” Regina was crying softly now, although she was obviously fighting the tears. Emma wasn’t faring any better. This was not what she had meant to do, not how she had wanted to make Regina feel. But as dread settled in her gut, she realized it was exactly what she had done. She had betrayed Regina’s trust in her—a gift she had never fully realized the magnitude of—and had squandered it recklessly. 

“Gina, I… I don’t know what to say. I never meant—I’m sorry.” Emma tried softly, trying to wrap her mind around Regina’s words, around their implications.

_Trusted, perhaps._

Emma didn’t try to stop the tears as they welled up, even though Regina was still fighting hers. A pang of pain and fear at that—Regina was hiding her emotions from her behind a fresh layer of armour, placed there by Emma herself. Panicking, she gripped Regina’s other hand as well, and dipped her head to get Regina to look at her instead of their hands.

“I’m sorry. Please, Regina. I-I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I do now, and it won’t ever happen again, I promise. I—damn it there is so much about you I don’t know yet!” Emma exclaimed frustrated by her own lack of understanding, although she kept her voice soft enough not to disturb the sounds of laughter coming from the den. At least Ruby was entertaining their son well enough.

“You know far more about me than I know of you, Emma. It should have been enough.” Regina said softly, drawing her back to the conversation. There wasn’t an accusation in the words, just pain. Emma’s face morphed into a confused expression.

“What do you mean, ‘I know far more about you than you know about me’?” Emma asked, genuinely not understanding the implications. She shifted into a slightly less cramped up position, lowering her legs—and her shields—a little.

“I’ve told you quite a lot about me, Emma. You’ve seen me at my worst, you know at least some of my worst pains. I have seen the scars on your body, the cigarette burns… I know you were in foster care and that you struggled after prison… I’ve read your juvy records a long time ago, but you never once made mention of any of it. I know about your life before Storybrooke only because of Henry or because of what I can see with my own eyes. Your walls are impenetrable for me, and I had hoped opening up to you would give you the safety you needed to reciprocate. So far it hasn’t… and while it is unrelated to the current issue, yes, that hurts me too. You spoke about True Love this morning, and I think we certainly have the potential for it… but if you want it, you need to commit yourself as well—emotionally, I mean. Because Emma, after yesterday? I don’t think I have the bravery required to open up to you further until we find some common ground for our weakest and darkest moments.” Regina fell silent, and Emma took the time to kick her brain into processing—unsuccessfully.

“I didn’t realize…” She eventually answered. “I just don’t think about that, especially foster care. And jail. I’ve pretty much… shut that out of my life.”

Regina squeezed her hands at this, and smiled a supportive smile that belay understanding. If anyone was used to suppressing memories, Emma mused, it was Regina. It was part of why they connected so well. It was true, though, that while Regina was making strides in opening up—or at least had been—Emma had remained her closed off self.

“I’m not looking to blackmail you into revealing any part of your past; I need you to understand that. It is just that…” Regina trailed off slightly as a rough smile came to Emma’s lips.

“…it’s just that if I want you to be my partner, like I said I wanted—and I do want that—it can’t be just you opening up.” Emma finished Regina’s sentence, and Regina nodded. 

“Exactly.” She agreed. “I never want to lose you Emma, and I want to trust you with everything there is left to tell—and I fear that is a lot—but I can’t do it anymore if that puts us on an unequal level like it has in the past. I was thinking about True Love this morning, and I realized that True Love, perhaps, is simply love, but coupled with unwavering faith in the other person. Faith… and trust. So yes, I think we have the seed for it in our relationship, but we have got to keep talking, keep opening up. Both of us, so we don’t feel so—”

“Exposed?” Emma interrupted with a painful but somewhat amusing snort, born out of the exact emotion she was describing. Just the thought of opening up old wounds was enough to make her nauseous. 

“An appropriate enough term,” Regina agreed. Observing Emma a moment, she mellowed her face and posture, and untangled one of her hands to lovingly run her thumb over Emma’s tear-stained cheek. 

“It was going to come up eventually, my dear, if only during your magic lessons. Much of your anger and your lack of focus, I fear, is tied to your early years. Without examining the emotions born from those experiences, you will never be able to fully control your power, let alone nurse it into a useful tool. Your magic is as strong as it is not because you are a product of True Love, Emma, but because of the depth of your emotions. It’s your greatest strength and your biggest downfall. I would know, because it was the same for me. When I was first starting out, I was surrounded by those who sought to turn me into a tool. My magic was powerful and my emotions made me weak. It was easy to weaponize me, and so I was.” Regina’s hand connected more solidly with the side of Emma’s face, and Emma leaned into the touch, eyes unwavering on Regina’s—as much as this hurt to hear.

“I will never, ever, let that happen to you, Emma. No matter what, no matter what happens between us, you must never fear that I will leave you to seek out help with your magic in the places and people I was forced to resort to. I will always be here for you.” Regina promised but all Emma heard was the doubt behind the words.

“It sounds like you are breaking up with me.” She forced, her voice painful to get out of her throat; it had constricted to such a degree that she was shocked she had even managed to speak at all.

“I am giving you a choice.” Regina answered, not keeping the pain out of her voice. “You don’t have to open up to me, you can keep your innermost self hidden away forever, if you so desire—and I will remain with you as long as I possibly can because I cannot fool myself into thinking that I would ever leave you of my own free will—but I can promise you that our relationship will suffer greatly until you start feeling comfortable enough with me to release some of the pain you obviously carry; some of the old pain that holds you back. Without opening up, we will drift apart, and there will be secrets between us, and lies to cover them up. We both know the darkness so well, my dear, it’s part of why we connect so easily. We understand… and I want to understand more of you, and have you understand more of me so things like yesterday’s discussion with Ruby will never happen again—because you’d know instinctively where the line is.” Regina spoke softly, in all openness and honesty she could muster. For the first time, Emma realized how long Regina had lived already, how much she was her senior. Emma swallowed, fighting a fresh wave of tears.

“I promise you that I will try to open up to you more, and tell you about my past. I also… I’ll start thinking before opening my big mouth, okay? Alcohol or not.” A pause as they simply stared at each other, Regina’s thumb rubbing gently over her heated cheek. Then Regina smiled lightly, and Emma could breathe again, the weight that had settled on her chest lifting in the face of a true smile.

“That is all I am asking.” Regina answered, and without conscious thought, hands untangled so they could pull the other close. Emma settled easily into Regina’s embrace, and took a deep breath of perfume and the scent that was entirely Regina. Long fingers ran through her hair as Emma held on, eyes closed, and allowed herself to soak up the warmth of the sole human being on the planet who saw her for who she really was—and wanted to delve deeper to explore more of her. She allowed herself to be weak, and in pain, and needy, and to take selfishly from the support offered to her. She let Regina’s soft caresses, the quiet kisses in her hair, and the steady beating of her heart fill the desperate void inside of her; the place where her inner lost girl resided.

Minutes ticked by as they simply sat and allowed the other in. Without conscious thought, Emma let her hand find Regina’s and opened herself up to be examined. Regina’s magic pressed against the palm of her hand—and the barriers of her mind—gently a few seconds later, and she exhaled gently to calm herself as she let her walls down. Since the fireball, this was her first dose of magic—even though Regina insisted it wasn’t really magic—and it was easier now. She understood what Regina had meant. This was displacement of power, not the transmutive qualities of energy-to-fire like she had forced before. Regina’s hand in her hair solidified, and she became aware of Regina’s emotions. Breathing regularly, heart rates aligning easily through the bond formed, they explored whatever the other allowed them to explore and found fear, pain, and love in equal amounts. It was strengthening. By the time she released Regina’s hand and Regina let go of the back of her head, Emma was sobbing silently; not in pain but in relief.

Regina was crying too, but smiling all the same. Once Emma pulled out of the embrace, she took in the state of her girlfriend, her partner, the mother to her child, and found herself wishing to do better. To be everything Regina desired her to be. To live up to the expectations—but not because she had to; because she _wanted_ to. Regina already accepted her as she was; anything more was icing on the cake.

“I love you.” She said, and it was the only thing worth saying at the moment.

“I love you.” Regina repeated, and this time, Emma knew she wouldn’t be rebuked when she leaned in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle, without the pressure of tongues; just lips sliding effortlessly against each other and conveying comfort and a desire to do better. It was enough—it was everything.

“We should clean ourselves up and return to the game.” Regina mused against her lips once they parted. “You can be on my team.”

Emma grinned.

“I’m always on your team.” Emma countered easily, and a touch of deep emotion came to Regina’s eyes. Emma didn’t have the faculties to explore it at the moment; instead she sighed. “I don’t want to, though... Go back?”

An amused chuckle followed from Regina, and the intensity left her eyes. 

“Me either, my dear. We have tonight, though.” She assured, and Emma smiled at that, pressing another soft peck on the woman’s addictive lips.

“Promise?” She asked, completely unafraid of the answer.

“Promise.” Regina answered her accommodatingly, and then finally pulled away with a sigh. She stood and helped Emma up, chuckling when Emma drew her in for another quick hug. Following the older woman up the stairs so they could restore some semblance of normalcy to their appearance before rejoining their oblivious son and their far too well-informed friend, Emma wondered when, exactly, she had become someone who faced her problems head-on. It was a freeing experience, though, abide painful, and Emma realized she was far from done. For now, though, she was going to play Scrabble with her family and best friend, and just that small wonder was enough to at least temporarily lift the last remnants of darkness from her heart.


	8. Childhood’s Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not written to anything because it was mostly written at 4 A.M., in bed, on my phone, while being wide awake and wishing I could sleep. So sorry for the late update, I got inspired for a boatload of other fics. If you do want a soundtrack for this chapter, by the way, try Aimee Mann's 'One'.

Regina Mills leaned back into the couch as she watched her partner become fanatical over a game of Scrabble. Emma had drawn up her legs while sitting on the couch, and was hunched forward, observing Ruby as she laid out what was beyond a doubt going to be the word with the highest point count of the entire game, landing her the victory. For the past half hour, Emma had gotten more and more involved in the game and despite subtle hints, the blonde seemed to have lost the knowledge that this was, in fact, just a game.

"That's not a word!" Emma contested, and Ruby's grin widened.

"Sure it is." She answered smugly, laying down the last 'C' on a triple word value square and sighing contently as she leaned back. Henry whistled proudly, high-fiving his nanny.

"Nice!" He complimented honestly, and Regina smiled at him. In her time with Henry, she had spent countless hours playing games with him. Long before Scrabble became his favourite, there had been game nights and puzzle afternoons. When he had been much younger, losing had been an issue; he would not get mad per se, but sad and desponded for sure. It had taken a good while before Regina had been able to instil in him that, if another person won fairly, they should be applauded; it wasn't always about winning.

The irony of her teaching anyone that lesson was not lost on her.

Regina had lost so many games in her day—either because Henry has squarely beaten her or because she had let him win—that she was no longer affected by losing at them. Obviously, Emma Swan had yet to learn that lesson. A blush was creeping up to her cheeks now as Red slid the stones aside in turn to calculate her final score, and Regina laid a warning—and hopefully comforting—hand on her lover's back. Frustration was radiating off of the blonde in waves.

"What kind of a word is 'quixotic', anyway?" Emma muttered angrily, and Henry's eyes slid from the board to his blonde mother before sliding over to his brunette one. His eyes were questioning, but Regina doubted it was about the word. Although Regina knew Red's brilliant move was a legitimate word, she realized the last thing Emma needed right now was for her to say that out loud; she did not want to come across as mocking. Instead she tried to lighten the mood as Red's face fell in the face of Emma’s quiet anger.

"Henry, what do we do when we aren't sure about a word?" She asked her young son, and he shot up from his pillow, rushing to fetch her huge three-part dictionary from her office. He returned with the leather-bound series, and deposited it—gently—on the floor. Picking out the right book, he begun to leaf through it while Emma shook off Regina's hand and waited with a set jaw. Red put back the 'Q' and sighed happily, abide with more restraint now Emma’s mood had chilled considerably.

"It's a word." Henry announced. "It means: 'caught up in the romance of noble deeds and the pursuit of unreachable goals; idealistic without regard to practicality'."

Emma huffed as she leaned back, arms folded, and face set to thunder. The pleasant mood that had settled between the four occupants of the den dissolved rapidly into nothing. Henry looked at his mom quizzically, and Red shifted in a manner that clearly indicated how uncomfortable she was. 

"What is your score, Ruby?" Regina requested, and a bit of pride was returned to the wolf girl's features.

"One hundred and nine." She answered, and Henry's jaw dropped. Even Regina was impressed. She had expected a high number, but this exceeded those expectations by far. Next to her, Emma shifted, unfolded her legs, and got up.

"Excuse me." The blonde grumbled, and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her a little too roughly. Two sets of eyes fell on Regina as she sighed.

"Did I... do something...?" Red asked, and Regina found the vulnerability in her voice endearing. Ruby Lucas, aka Red Riding Hood, was a very complex human being, Regina mused. She had almost singlehandedly kept a conversation going over lunch, and in such a manner that Regina had caught herself being not only amused, but engaging in the conversation; because she wanted to, not because she had to. Obviously, Ruby had realized that having a conversation just to have a conversation was foreign to Regina and had allowed her time to adjust, filling her silence with anecdotes from her own lifetimes as Red and Ruby. 

Once Regina had worked up the courage to engage her, they had spent over an hour and a half talking about the mechanics of the curse; how ‘Ruby’ had experienced it, how Regina had, and how their minds and memories were affected through it. When Ruby had reached out to gently squeeze her hand when she had mentioned being fully aware of the time that had passed, Regina had found herself choking up. Finding understanding where she usually only found hate was liberating, and it had been a pivotal point. It was that moment when Regina lost the ability to think of the younger woman as ‘Ruby’—it seemed disrespectful to call her so when it was a name forced upon her by the curse. In her mind, at least, Regina changed the woman’s name to ‘Red’, a woman she had never met, but had always admired through the hate.

As for Red, she described her memories of the twenty-eight years she had lived under the curse as 'foggy'; she knew the memories were there, and she could access them when reminded, or when she could tie them to another memory, but especially memories from well before Emma's arrival were almost impossible to recover on her own—especially because many of them were duplicates. Ruby had spent most of her time under the curse waiting tables, wishing to get out of Storybrooke, and clubbing. More often than not, she had taken someone home with her afterwards.

That comment had raised Regina's shields again and guilt settled heavily in her chest. She was aware of the damage she had done to Red by turning her into Ruby, and to her credit, Red did not downplay her feelings to make her feel better. She did not rub it in, however, nor held a grudge, and when she had asked after the curse—if Regina had picked out everyone's secondary character, if Storybrooke had been the idea all along, if she had designed the town itself—Regina had answered truthfully and with as much detail as she could muster. Red had appreciated it, and they had let the subject rest for the moment, especially now they had both had their biggest curiosities satisfied. There would be enough time to delve deeper into this painful subject.

There had been a moment around three PM where Regina had announced she had to pick up Henry, but had not been quite sure how to ask Red to stay for the rest of the afternoon. The taller woman had made it half way out the door when Regina had gotten over her own insecurities and had simply asked her to—putting pride and embarrassment aside in favour of human contact. Red had happily accepted the offer. So it was that they had found themselves in Regina's car, waiting for Henry outside of the school. Henry had frozen on the spot—wide eyed—when he spotted Red in the passenger seat of the waiting Mercedes. Jumpstarted into action by Red's grin, he had rushed to the car, pulled open the back door, and had slipped in with a million questions burning on his tongue. Thus it came to be that Regina ended up rushing to inform Red that none of their interactions—beyond movie night, of course—had been planned in advance as the secrets of a certain operation were divulged to Red in detail.

Red was very much on board with operation Monarch Butterfly, and while Regina drove home, the older brunette had gotten to comment—mostly negatively—on the ideas brought up by two of Storybrooke's most imaginative people. Seeing Henry so happy, however, had been worth every moment of embarrassment. She had missed seeing her boy so happy—had missed seeing him at all. They were slowly restoring their bond, however. Henry was slowly allowing her back in, and he did not look at her like she was the Evil Queen anymore. He didn’t flinch away from her touch, although she still feared he would every time her hand fell upon him. The need to reach out was too great to resist, however, so she left herself vulnerable to his rejection on a daily basis. 

After tea and a snack, Henry had mentioned Scrabble, and Red had come to remember that she had actually played it before with Henry. Both Henry—whose memories of the time during the curse were also somewhat vague although Regina did not know if that was his youth or the curse, or both—and Regina had shared memories with the long haired brunette until she was able to fish their shared memories out of the fog. Excited about the game, Red had suggested they play, and so Regina had found herself watching as Red pulled a pillow onto the ground of her den, undid the zippers of her boots, and sat down across from Henry like she used to. Regina joined in happily, and secretly hoped that game nights would be introduced to the household again. Ever since Henry had received the book—Regina now knew—he had become distant, and had refused to talk to her, let alone play with her. To sit here with her son, someone willing to be her friend, and knowing her partner would come home soon had made the moment perfect—even if Regina needed to have a talk with her blonde babble mouth of a partner.

“No, Ruby, you didn’t. I’ll go check on her well-being. Why don’t the two of you pack the game away so we can start dinner? Congratulations on your well-deserved victory.” Regina complimented as her thoughts returned to the present. She leaning forward to shake the younger brunette’s hand, and Red smiled happily, thanking her. Afterwards, Regina straightened, centred herself and headed out the door, rubbing Henry’s head a moment on the way out. There was no need for him to worry about his blonde mother; Regina thought she had an inkling of her partner’s thought process, and all she needed was a little time to cool off.

She found Emma in the kitchen, curled up on a high stool, digging into a package of Prince Mini Stars which Regina added to her son’s lunchbox on very rare occasions. She watched the desponded blonde from the hallway a moment and then knocked on the wall. Emma looked up and popped another cookie into her mouth, recalcitrant to the core.

“You’re going to ruin your appetite.” Regina said, but there was understanding and compassion in her voice, not sass. 

“I don’t care.” Emma answered around a cookie, and added another one to the bits already in her mouth. _You are your son’s mother, alright_ , Regina found herself thinking, and smirked as she entered the kitchen, pulling up a seat and sitting down. Emma had slid her eyes off of her but allowed her to sit. When Regina held up her hand for a cookie, Emma eyed it a moment and then sighed as she placed one into the open palm. Regina thanked her and brought the treat to her lips, nibbling on it as she regarded Emma.

“How are you feeling, my dear?” She asked gently, resisting the urge to touch her.

“Like an idiot.” Emma admitted, and now Regina did place her free hand on Emma’s arm. The blonde Sheriff allowed it. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Regina suggested, and Emma sighed. Looking up a moment, she smiled the bare minimum of a smile.

“No, but I will.” She answered, and Regina resisted the urge to tell her she did not have to... because Emma did; if not for Regina and their relationship, than for herself. It was obvious that this was a remnant of her childhood, and whatever it was, it was holding Emma back. So Regina stayed quiet and waited, squeezing the arm under her hand lightly, meanwhile winching slightly at the amount of sugar her cookie contained. She swallowed it almost against her will. Henry was not having these again.

“Here’s the thing... I have been having a hard time at it today; since I came home.” Emma started, and Regina couldn’t help but smile at the mention of ‘home’. She nodded encouragingly, and gently traced her thumb over Emma’s simple black shirt. 

“This whole day has been messed up, and there was the talk, but mostly... watching you and Henry playing a game with Ruby... God, I hate myself for saying this, but I got jealous. Not in the romantic way, in the... ‘I want this’-way. In the ‘I have always wanted this’-way.” Emma started, pausing for a cookie and finding the package empty. Frustrated, she crumpled the packaging and looked up in surprise when Regina stood and retrieved a new package for her. Emma’s eyes were watery when she handed it over silently, and Emma graced her with one of her more emotion-filled smiles. Regina answered it with one of her own as she sat back down, reaching for Emma’s hand once she had gotten the package open. It took two more cookies for Emma to continue.

“I’ve never really had a family. I’ve played games in school, and sometimes in the group homes I went to, but it was never like this, you know? Never in a house with people who—” She halted herself, eyes darting to Regina as she was struck with a thought that she obviously found unsettling.

“You can say it, Emma. I won’t judge you for anything you are thinking or feeling.” Regina tried to comfort her, and the blonde sighed.

“Okay. Okay, fine. I was going to say ‘belong to me’; in a house with people who belong to me—with me—and whom I belong to.” Emma admitted, and Regina found herself smiling like a fool. 

“I see nothing to judge in that statement. We all long for... family.” She whispered, and squeezed the hand in hers. Emma smiled, but would not meet her eyes. She had another cookie, hoping to settle her nerves with food.

“Family...” Emma mused, tasting the word. “I like it.”

Emma met her eyes now, and they smiled. Giving in to the need inside of her, Regina leaned in for a soft kiss, a mere brushing of lips, as they affirmed that they _both_ liked the sound of family. After all, Regina mused, they had been one for a long time. Dysfunctional and painful, but from that first ‘hi’ outside of this house, they had known they would forever be bound together. This was just better than either of them had imagined it would be—far better. Pulling back, Regina settled herself as she waited for Emma to continue.

“I don’t want to think about my childhood—” Emma admitted painfully. “...but the more I try not to, the more it comes out in bad calls and these... _thoughts_. Ever since Neverland, and us, and talks of a new baby... I’ve been trying to figure out where I fit in. I’ve always been fine being on my own, but then I found my parents—the people I never thought I’d find—and I loved them instantly. I had wanted to for too long; I couldn’t stop it. And now it hurts—so much—because I want the years back. I want to be what they need so they don’t need a new baby. I want to be the kid they want... and I hate that I’m so selfish.”

Emma’s words had become a flood, tumbling from her lips uncensored as she sat hunched over the counter, talking down into it and her cookies as she let her hair tumble to hide her face. Regina wasn’t sure if she was crying or not, but she could hear Emma struggle with her emotions in her voice. The familiar guilt was back, but this was not about her. She swallowed it down roughly. 

“You are not selfish, my dear.” Regina said softy, her heart breaking over how well she understood how Emma was feeling, and how much she wished things were different. “We all want to belong, to be loved for who we are, and to be enough; to be wanted. Your parents love you very much Emma, far more than you perhaps imagine they do. Your mother...” 

Regina trailed off a moment, trying to decide if she should say this—if she was allowed to speak about Snow White at all, but Emma was hurting, and her allegiance lay with the blonde. Emma had turned her head to look at her. She had managed to contain her tears, with difficulty, it seemed.

“Your mother grew up wanting for nothing. The sole thing she lacked was a mother, but history was in her favour, and so she even got a replacement for her once she passed. I was never the mother Snow White deserved, but I was still there in theory. For years, that was enough. She has always gotten whatever she desired; her father indulged her, the people loved her, and David fell for her the moment he laid eyes on her. I fear this has left your mother slightly entitled, whether she is aware of it or not.” She added softly, keeping all venom out of her voice. She didn’t even feel that much of it to begin with, so it wasn’t too hard. Regina gently cupped her lover’s cheek, and smiled lovingly, understandingly, down at her.

“Snow is used to everything going her way, and in the Enchanted Forest, it would have. Here, with you, she has encountered something she can’t fix just by wishing on a star... and I think it hurts her very much.” Regina concluded, feeling a spike of pain at the words. Years later and only now did she realize how much Snow White had become part of her heart over the years. They had hurt each other more than any two human beings should, but it had bonded them as well. Emma leaned into her touch, surrendering to the truth she found in the softly spoken words.

“I guess...” She eventually conceded, sniffling lightly before wiping her nose on her shirt and popping another cookie into her mouth. Regina let the topic rest. She did not have much choice, regardless, because she could hear Henry and Red emerging from the den. With a last squeeze, she released Emma’s hand, and reached for the two empty wrappers while Emma quickly popped the last two cookies into her mouth, chewing hurriedly. Standing, Regina deposited the evidence of Emma’s gluttony in the trash and found Red and Henry in the door opening when she turned, Red’s hand protectively on Henry’s shoulders. Red’s eyes flitted over the scene in front of her, trying to judge how the mood was.

“Hey kid, Rubs. Sorry for freaking out. It was a good word... and I’m a sore loser.” Emma admitted as she turned and slid off of the stool. Henry pulled himself away from Red and crossed the distance between him and his mom easily. Emma squatted so she could hug him fully as Regina met Red’s eyes and smiled. Red nodded in return, a light smile on her own features. 

“It’s okay, Emma, we’re going to play lots of games and you’ll get better soon.” Henry answered genuinely, and Red snorted while Regina smirked.

“Are you saying you think you’ll beat me a lot?” Emma asked, eyes flying open at her son’s veiled dig at her expense. Henry stoically refused to budge, head still resting on his mom’s shoulder.

“Absolutely.” He answered, and now Red was laughing out loud, while Regina couldn’t fight the smile that overtook her. Emma pushed her son off of her a little so she could look him squarely in the eye. Her annoyance was completely fake, though, as she held up her fist for him to tap his against.

“You’re on.” Emma accepted the challenge, and they grinned at each other before Emma straightened, arm around her son’s shoulders. “So, what does a hard working Sheriff have to do to get some food around here?”

Before Regina could react, Red spoke up.

“Well, Henry and I have decided that we are going to cook for your guys.” Red announced, and Regina felt an eyebrow rise in sassy surprise. “I hope we’re not messing with any meal plan, Regina, but we figured you could use a day of not cooking, and well... we really don’t want Emma near anything that we will be ingesting—”

“Hey!” Emma cut in, but Red ignored her. Regina chuckled gently while Henry grinned a toothy grin.

“So, if you two set the table, Henry will show me where you keep the good stuff, and we will whip something up together. How does that sound?” Red—who was much more Ruby right now than her much shier alter ego—pressed on, and Regina found herself silently conversing with Emma, who shrugged.

“Alright, yes, that would be a pleasant change of pace. If you need anything, let us know, else we look forward to dinner. I have to go out for groceries but there should be enough in the refrigerator, fridge, and pantry to give you a few options.” Regina found herself agreeing, shocked at how easily she did so. Here was her nemesis, bluntly overtaking her prized terrain, and she did not mind beyond a small defensive spike that was so much part of her default personality that it came out whenever anyone addressed her with a challenge. Red beamed happily, and Henry crossed back over to her for a high-five.

“Okay, then the kitchen is off-limits now. Shoo!” Red happily ordered, and made room for the two adult women to exit the kitchen. Regina met her eyes a moment as she moved past her, and didn’t hide the way she was touched by the younger woman’s gesture. Red understood, she was sure. Leaving for the dining room, Regina found Emma waiting for her and walked her the last few feet. As they fell in sync with an easy that did not escape Regina’s notice, they set the table easily. Regina took out the china, and Emma took it from her, placed it on the table, and returned for a new load. The only thing Regina did herself was the cutlery, as she had a system she preferred to stick with. Emma allowed her the indulgence with a smirk as she crossed her arms to observe.

“Well, then, exiled from my own kitchen.” Regina mused while they worked, and Emma laughed. 

“You should be happy, _my Queen_ , you have the evening off.” Emma scoffed in amusement, and Regina smiled. 

“Very true, my dear.” Regina answered, holding up a wine glass with a questioning look on her face. Emma regarded her options and shook her head.

“I think I should stick to water for a while longer.” She answered eventually, accepting a long drink glass instead. Regina had Emma place one of each glasses at Red’s place setting while she took a wine glass, and Henry a long drink glass.

“A wise decision.” Regina agreed. “How is your head?”

“Better. Now it’s just throbbing. This morning I wanted to lop off my own head, but I’ve been living off of water and aspirins all day, and it seems to help.” Emma answered. “Thanks for asking.” 

“Very welcome. I was afraid it would be bad. You really were quite intoxicated last night.” Regina teased. Emma groaned, accepting napkins.

“I was. I really was. I don’t know what happened—well, I know what _happened_ , but I’m not usually such a lightweight.” She mused, face scrunching up in annoyance.

“Well...” Regina eyed the door opening, but the sound of clattering pans and laughter was quite a ways away. “I did appreciate your... mental state.” 

“My mental—oh. Oh! _That_ mental state.” Emma flushed an adorable shade of red. “I uh... did not mind that either.”

Regina tried to hand off trivets for hot pots and pans, but instead found herself pressed lightly into the china cabinet by a sultry looking blonde. She smirked as she rested against the dark wood happily, wrapping her arms around Emma’s neck, the trivets dangling from her fingertips. Eyes met with smiles from both, and then Emma pressed forward lightly, brushing her lips tenderly over Regina’s, who sighed in response. They kissed slowly, sensually, and when Emma’s hand traced her side, thumb sliding down over her abdomen, Regina felt her desire flare. She had only ever needed a single touch from Emma to ignite her, or a look, or sometimes just a word. Something about the Sheriff had always resonated with her. 

Tongues danced lazily together for quiet moments that Regina relished, and she wrapped her free hand into Emma’s soft hair. She hadn’t been lying last night, she really did love Emma’s hair—especially when it was down and slightly curly like now. When Emma pulled away and licked her lips happily, Regina brought her hand forward to gently stroke her cheek. 

“You have such an effect on me...” She breathed. Emma smiled happily—proudly—but she could tell by her slightly shallow breathing that the kiss had not left Emma unaffected either.

“Same.” Emma confirmed, and once more ran her hand down Regina’s abdomen, causing Regina’s mind to flash back to Emma describing the motion last night. She shivered as hooded eyes settled upon her. Bringing the trivets around, she handed them over and ruefully pushed Emma off of her.

“Come on, Savior. Your task isn’t done yet and we are not alone. Tonight, when we are, you can show me what I inspire in you.” Regina husked, and she saw Emma shiver in response. 

“Deal.” Emma answered, taking the utensils and stepping back slowly. Emma bit her lip and smirked. Then, seductively, she uttered the words that would haunt Regina for the rest of the night. “I’ll be thinking about it until then.”


	9. Because We Belong Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update The Swan Queen Big Bang kicked my ass (42+k) and then life happened. To compensate, you guys are getting an 8k update. Written to Marble Sounds' 'Leave a Light On'. Sorry about the feels, these last few episodes have been killing me. Also: smut warning.

“Alright, your water is on the nightstand and Emma and I will be--”

“Right next door, got it, mom.” Henry interrupted easily, pulling the blankets tighter around himself with Regina's aid. Regina smiled, a light blush on her features. She wondered how long it would take for Henry acknowledging her intimate relationship with Emma to start feeling like a normal part of their interactions. Quite some time yet, she feared.

“Alright, good. Sleep well, my little prince.” She whispered, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her son's forehead before tickling his stomach over the blankets subconsciously. Henry smiled, and she felt a gentle smile tug at the corners of a mouth before she got up regrettably. She adored these moments with her son. Before she could get up fully, Henry called her back with a small 'mom?'.

“Yes, dear?” She asked, sitting back down on the side of his bed, finding his hand effortlessly with hers. She rubbed slow circles over the back of it as she waited for Henry to gather his thoughts.

“I liked going to the park with you and Emma on Sunday. I missed that.” He admitted, and Regina felt her heart soar. Her happiness was eternally tied to his, and to have him admit to even such a small thing as missing their outings affected her more than she knew it should a grown woman. She squeezed his hand lightly, trying not to put too much emotional weight on the moment. She carefully levelled her voice into soft warmth and smiled.

“I had a very good time as well. If you want to, we could do it more often, I'm sure Emma would like that as well.” She mused. He nodded happily. 

“Maybe... maybe we could do something together... too?” Henry asked, brows furrowing. Her heart skipped a beat and she had to swallow down the ball of emotions lodging in her throat before she could even attempt an answer.

“I would like that very much. How about... how about tomorrow after school, you and I go do groceries like we used to, and you can pick out a new comic. We could even go for ice-cream afterwards?” She asked, and she could see the tell-tale twinkle come to his eyes. His smile widened alongside hers.

“Sure, sounds good.” He answered her, and she nodded.

“Good, good, then we'll do that. Now sleep.” She answered, squeezing his hand one more time before getting up and switching off his bedside light. Henry shuffled under the blankets further while she rounded the bed and just before she pulled shut the door to his room—a last look at the figure on the bed—he called for her attention again.

“Yes, dear?” She asked, surprised at another interruption of her departure. Henry rolled over and popped his head out from under the blankets.

“I like that you and Ruby are friends now. It was fun today.” He said, and Regina smiled.

“I'm very happy we are friends as well, Henry. I really like her, and she has been very kind to me.” Regina admitted, and Henry nodded, settling down again.

“You deserve it.” He vowed, and she felt herself blush. 

“Sleep, my little prince. We'll talk tomorrow.” She gave by way of reply and shut the door, leaning her head against it for a few long moments as she tried to get her emotions under control before descending the stairs with a smile on her features, her son's words on repeat in her mind. It had been quite the day. Not only had Henry offered her this beautiful olive branch—a branch that reminded her that despite everything, he was still her little boy—but just half an hour ago, her _friend_ , Ruby Lucas had left her mansion after spending nearly nine hours together, and now, she was heading into the den to have a quiet glass of wine with her beautiful girlfriend like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

It was petrifying.

Then again, it was also worth being scared about. She reminded herself of her conclusions about True Love—and love in general—and managed to calm herself enough to accept her glass of red wine with a steady hand, meeting mischievous green for a long moment.

“Did everything go okay?” Emma asked, and Regina nodded. They settled easily on the couch, and Regina found herself leaning into Emma's frame while the blonde ran her nails softly over the thin material of her blouse, driving Regina to distraction as she tried to answer.

“Very well, actually. He settled easily, then asked if we could do more things together, both the three of us as well as him and I together.” Regina mused, and Emma pulled her a little tighter.

“I'm jealous of what you two have shared over the last eleven years, but I know the last year has been hard on you. I'm really happy he's coming around; I know I didn't exactly help make your relationship with him better during my time here—in fact, I made it worse most of the time.” Emma answered, her voice flat. Regina realized she should have been happy hearing the awkwardly formulate apology, but she wasn't. Emma spoke the truth, but that didn't mean it was all her fault.

“I am afraid that my actions in the past have not helped my case. As soon as he got the book, I was at a distinct disadvantage—and his birth mother entering his life did not help matters any—but I put him through enough torment in my fear and pain over losing him that him withdrawing from me was inevitable.” She answered gently, pressing closer into Emma's warm body as she rested her legs comfortably on the length of the couch. 

“I guess we both aren't exactly taking home the mother of the year award, huh?” Emma said, light amusement in her voice. Regina took a sip of wine to cover a pained grin. 

“I guess not.” She paused a moment, then sat up so she could turn around and look at the wonderful woman who had entered her life so suddenly and had turned it completely up-side-down. 

“We have a chance of doing it right now, though. Together. He's our son, and he will always be our son... I... I have something for you. It was supposed to be your birthday present but I decided last night that I can think of something else for that. You should have this now. Could you hold this for a moment?” Regina handed her wine glass to a surprised and slightly confused Emma as a blush crept to her features. She stood and retrieved a thin leather-bound tome from one of the bookshelves in the den. Running her fingers over the imprinted silver letters of Henry's name, she returned to the couch, sitting down as Emma eyed her curiously. The wine glasses stood forgotten on the coffee table.

“I made this for you before we got together. After Neverland, I realized that I had been... selfish, perhaps, in keeping from you the memories I have with Henry. I wasn't trying to hurt you, I was just afraid; the people in this town have seen me raise Henry for the last eleven years, and ten of those, I raised him entirely on my own. They have seen me make happy memories with him. He didn't always hate me, you know? He used to love me very much. I remember him looking up at me like I was his entire world. He used to stop crying as soon as I kissed his injuries. Long ago, all he needed to feel loved and happy was a hug from me.” Regina's voice broke a moment, but she waved off Emma's concern. She needed to get through this, and acts of kindness were too painful now.

“Especially since the curse broke, no one seems to remember that part of me—of the relationship between Henry and I. I haven't always been friendly towards everyone, but Henry was, and I was a good Mayor for this town; they have seen me with my son during many lunches, dinners, and public events, and yet they would rather disregard those years and the happiness I gave him in favour of their vendetta against me. I'm not saying I do not partially deserve the treatment; I simply mean it as an explanation as to why I reacted so protectively about him towards you when you came to my door. “ Regina said softly, one hand on the book, the other taking hold of Emma's—Emma who was looking at her with wide eyes full of emotion, Emma who squeezed her hand gently even though the words obviously hurt her.

“You made me very angry, Emma. Angry and scared, and I lashed out. Henry is—was—all I have; I meant what I said in Neverland, he means everything to me. The way the town embraced you—daughter of Snow White—like they embraced your mother all those years ago... As soon as you showed up, I knew I would lose everything—again--while this was supposed to be my happy ending.” Regina shook her head and smirked at herself. “I hated Storybrooke. I hated this 'happy ending' that the curse had created. It wasn't real, and I was even lonelier than when I was locked up in King Leopold's palace—his prisoner by marriage. Henry was my only ray of light in a very dark life, and knowing I would lose him, too, to someone who would win solely because good always wins was a realization too hard to bear for me.”

Emma swallowed at that, and pain ghosted over her features again. It seemed Emma was aware that 'good' was perhaps not always such a righteous side to be on. Regina didn't want to talk more, did not want to add to Emma's turmoil, but now she had opened the floodgates to her feelings—despite promising herself she would not open up to Emma again before Emma had opened up to her—she could not close them before the reservoir had been emptied.

“I apologize for burdening you with these thoughts, my dear, and I realize how selfish I am sounding but—” Emma interrupted her with a quick squeeze and a droopy smile that always had Regina melt a little—even when they were still pretending to be enemies.

“No, no, it's okay. This is important and, I mean, I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt to hear, but Tinker Bell already did some groundwork, and I _should_ hear this. Please, go on. It's okay.” Emma quickly vowed, and Regina nodded, gathering her thoughts a moment.

“I kept Henry from you out of spite, out of fear, and out of pain. These last few months have been... terrible for me, and although recent developments—” She squeezed Emma's hand at that and the two shared a knowing smile, “...have improved my over-all mental health a great deal, I still struggle with many issues. When we returned from Neverland, especially, I realized that I was not healthy—that I was not _happy_. Henry and you have been beacons of light in a very dark world… and you two have started to make me see that the things I had started feeling entitled to are not really mine to have at all. They are not certainties or rewards for going through hell. As I said, I have been selfish and I want to change that. I have been doing a lot of thinking lately and you have made me want to be a better person—a better mother—and a better partner to you than I have been.” Emma opened her mouth to interrupt her, then, but she pleaded her with her eyes and words to keep silent. 

“I thought I was already the best parent Henry could have—that I was all he needed—but seeing you with him has opened my eyes to the truth, that I raised him well, that I was a good mother, but that he has been sorely missing out as well. I have seen him blossom since you came into his life. He has friends now—something impossible under the curse—and he’s truly happy. The void inside of him has been filled. He loves you so very much, Emma, and you are just as much his mother as I am. I—I hope you do not mind me saying this, but I know you struggle with being a mom, with deserving the title. Please, Emma, trust me. You _are_ his mom. He loves you, you add such joy to his life… and that is why I want to give you this.” Regina finally let go of Emma’s hand and brushed away a stray tear from her lover’s cheek before bringing the hand down to the book, placing it onto the blonde’s lap.

“What’s this?” Emma croaked, obviously fighting her emotions, and Regina curled up on the couch a little, sliding her bent legs against Emma’s before reaching out to open the book to the first page, letting the front cover rest on her own legs. A short note in her handwriting graced the page, and Emma’s eyes flitted over the words. About half way through, she lost the fight to her tears completely, and by the time she was done, wide eyes found her own before hands cupped the side of her face and she was pulled into a wet and trembling kiss she returned with equal emotion.

_‘My dearest Emma,_

_I love you, I must start with that. My gift to you is happy memories of our son. I will never be able to repay you for the gift you have given me, but I can, perhaps, attempt to make you a part of it. This book contains pictures of Henry and myself taken throughout his life. They consist of the happiest memories I have of having him, and I have tried to tell the associating stories with as much detail and honesty as I could. There are many traditions in this book that I hope you will be a part of from now on. I could see during our movie night with Miss Lucas that you felt left out of our little family, and I don’t want you to feel like that ever again. You are part of this family now—and you always were, in a way. I can’t tell what the future will bring for us, but these last two weeks have changed me profoundly._ You _have changed me profoundly, and have returned some of the innocence and optimism of the young woman I once was. I am blessed to share Henry and myself with you, and as much as it scares me, I love you as much as I have ever loved anyone._

_May we create many more happy memories with our son to fill these pages._

_Yours, happily ever after,  
Regina Mills.’_

“Those are some damn big words.” Emma whispered against her lips after a prolonged kiss, and Regina smirked, kissing Emma again as her heart pounded in her chest—out of fear, excitement, and joy.

“So says the woman who brought up True Love.” She quipped in reply, trying to alleviate the mood. Emma laughed at that, pulling back a little to look at her. 

“You have no idea how fucking scared I am of all of this, Gina. Like… forty-nine percent of me just wants to get in my Bug and drive off screaming. I’m so used to getting hurt, to just… losing it all once I have started caring. I have worked so hard to stop caring… and then bam… I suddenly have parents and a son and this woman in my life who I tried to only sleep with but ended up falling in love with. I feel like I’m entirely ill-equipped to handle any of it most days. I feel like I’m faking being someone who has a family.” Emma groaned and leaned back into the couch, eyes closed. “And then there is the other fifty-one percent that is three years old and wants all of this _desperately_ —more than anything in the whole world. How do people do this ‘opening-up’-thing? Seriously, how do you write something like this and say all of the things you just said? I feel like I can’t breathe when I try to do it, like it actually… hurts, like physically, to try sharing what’s inside of me.”

Regina regarded the beautiful woman still pressed against her, regarded the redness around her eyes, the tension in her jaw and hands, the way one hand cradled the book protectively while the other was balled into a fist. She wanted to make it better, somehow, but knew she couldn’t; not really. She had felt exactly like Emma did, had felt it so often…

“You do it because the alternative is worse. In my case, the alternative was anger, and hate, and revenge… my way to not deal with everything inside of me was to kill innocent people, to hurt Snow White, to self-destruct to the point of near-totally destruction. It was _you_ who taught me how to open up, Emma. You made it easy for me. I gave you my body and you were always respectful with it, even when you were rough. You kept our secret, you challenged me to claim what I wanted from you… you made me vocal in so many ways—and most of them had nothing to do with sex. I know we had a hard talk today, and difficult things were said, but what I want you to take away from it—” she reached out gently, with a soft smile, and brushed a lock of hair from Emma’s face, causing her eyes to flutter open and focus on her. “…is that you have people who love you, who will not judge you, and who will not betray you. You are safe… with me.”

Emma lost the fight to her tears again, and the gratitude clashing with her fear was easy to read in the green orbs Regina had learned to read so well. She had seen them darken in passion, squint shut in anger, fly open in fear, and she had seen the remnants of so many broken promises in them. Most days, it was like looking into a mirror, and it strengthened her resolve to make this work, to be there for Emma as Emma had been there for her. Emma didn’t come to her with her sorrow and frustration, but she did allow Regina to run gentle fingers through her hair while she cried soundlessly but openly, one hand on the book, the other unclenching to slide to Regina’s leg. It was enough—a connection strong and steady between them that perhaps would calm Emma’s nerves. It took a few silent minutes, but then the tears halted, and after a few minutes more in which they simply sat together, Emma sniffed one last time and opened her eyes again, sitting up firmer and drawing the book more solidly onto their laps.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, eyes on the book and not Regina. What, exactly, Emma was saying thank you for was unclear, but Regina could guess. Between the book, the promises, and the support, Emma must be a little overwhelmed at the moment. The blonde’s trembling hand finally reached to turn the page, and a pained but happy smile came to her features right away: a picture of baby Henry in his crib, sleeping peacefully. Below it, another short note.

_‘Henry, ten days old. This was taken the first night he spent at my house. I made ten pictures identical to this one and once I had them developed, nine of them were out of focus because I had been trembling so badly when I shot them.’_

The left page held a longer story, detailing those first weeks, how Henry had cried and cried and cried until she had begged him to give her a chance. How afterwards, he had turned into a quiet child who rarely fussed. She described how Henry had hated peas, and how the first diaper she had tried to pin on him had fallen off the second she had lifted him. She shared how scared she had been of messing it up until Mary-Margaret—of all people—had told her how good she looked with a baby. They read the story together, Emma asking questions about what she had written and smiling as she was painted a vivid picture of baby Henry. Her fingers traced the picture reverently, and Regina watched, letting Emma have this moment of contemplation.

“I wish I had known him then, that I had kept him. There is not a day that goes by where I don’t regret giving him up. I regretted it as soon as I did it… but I was so scared of messing him up. I had nothing to offer him; I was in prison… he deserved better. Better than me… and he did. You raised him so well… I don’t want to mess him up now.” Emma voiced miserably.

“Listen to me, Henry is a very well-adjusted, smart, young man who loves both his mothers, as well as his father, his grandparents and all the wonderful people in his life. I have never seen anyone as capable of love as him. He’s bounced back from things far beyond the scope of many kids his age, and he has come out stronger on the other side. I doubt there is anything you could do that would ‘mess him up’, Emma; you love him and he loves you; you would never do wrong by him. I may not approve of the junk you let him eat or the bedtimes he keeps—or does not keep—when he stays over at your place, but that does not take away from the fact you would do anything for him. You have always wanted the best for him, and the best thing for him is to have you be a mother to him as well, so you can balance out my healthy diet and strict bed times. He needs to experience staying up to read until the wee hours of the night and he needs to have fun. We balance each other well, and he needs both… so stop worrying. Henry is fine, and you are a wonderful mother to him.” Regina vowed, and was rewarded the first genuine smile she had seen all evening. Smiling back, she gently closed the book and watched as Emma’s hands subconsciously took a solid hold on it, indicating the value of it to the blonde.

“Now, my dear, what do you say to saving the rest of the stories for a later date and heading to bed, hm? I think we may both have had enough emotional turmoil to deal with for the day?” She added, and Emma nodded. 

“Yes, please.” Emma answered gratefully, a note of amusement in her voice at their current predicament. Regina moved to get up, but was pulled back down. Tumultuous green met inquisitive brown, and Emma bit her lip a moment. “Regina… thank you. For all of this—for the book, for your words… I…”

“It’s alright. I understand. I really do. Come, let me take you to bed.” Regina added, and this time, Emma let her go and allowed the brunette to pull her up. They emptied their wine glasses in a long gulp, and Regina relished the slight burn as the alcoholic beverage went down. There was already a routine in their bed time ritual. By the time Regina had locked the doors and turned off the lights, Emma had rinsed and set aside the glasses, turned off the fireplace, and was waiting for her at the foot of the staircase. They ascended the stairs together, and Regina disappeared into the adjacent bathroom while Emma stripped to her panties.

By the time Regina returned, Emma was sitting Indian-style on the large bed she had grown so accustomed to sharing with the blonde. Smiling—captivated as always by the beauty of the woman waiting for her—she turned to undo her blouse, sliding it off of her shoulders, fully expecting Emma to take her turn in the bathroom. By the time she turned around, however, after stepping out of her pants, Emma was still there, watching her. Regina felt her eyebrow climb up her forehead in amusement.

“See something you like, my dear?” She requested, and Emma smiled, but not in the wickedly sexy way Regina had expected. That—she realized—was a smile of pure affection. She adjusted her smile to match and stepped closer, watching as Emma untangled herself and slipped her legs off of the bed for Regina to stand between. Warm hands slid up the outside of her thighs as Emma stared up at her.

“You are so beautiful.” Emma whispered, and Regina felt her emotions soar. 

“I love it when you tell me that.” She admitted, and Emma smirked happily, leaning forward to press a kiss just above her navel. 

“I love telling you.” Emma answered, and slid her hands up over the soft globes of Regina’s ass, and then to the small of her back as she pressed a set of kisses on the plain of her abdomen. Regina shivered pleasantly and brought her hands up to run fingers gently through Emma’s hair. It was a heightened moment that could go anywhere, and the thrill of it sparked through Regina’s system. One again, she wondered how she had gotten so lucky as to have this woman want to be with her—not just sexually, but to actually _seek out_ a _relationship_ with her. She shivered as she watched Emma’s tongue flit across her skin, and automatically fisted the woman’s hair a little tighter. The familiar twinge of arousal that always simmered in her where the blonde was concerned sprung to life and she sighed happily.

“How do you affect me so…?” She husked, giving voice to her thoughts and emotions, and Emma smiled against her skin. 

“You do the same to me… you always have… the fire in your eyes, the way you look at me… That first time, when I cut your apple tree? I thought you were going to kill me… and then you got so close to me and suddenly, all I could think about was fucking you—” a shiver of arousal shot through Regina’s form at the words and the memory. She hadn’t planned on… doing what had happened. She had just been so angry, so _challenged_ , and then she had been in Emma’s personal space, having her trapped against the side of the house… and common sense had left her. 

Regina had given into the screaming need in her mind and body and had grabbed Emma’s jaw roughly, pressing a firm kiss onto her lips that was met with only a moment of hesitation, then Emma’s hands had been everywhere, groping at her clothing, her person. She had meant to intimidate, overpower, but instead, Emma had responded in kind. She had challenged her _again_. Their kisses had gotten rough and desperate as they vested the obstacles between their hands and their goal. They hadn’t needed words; they understood what was happening, and that they were willing participants. In the time Emma had needed to find her way under her dress and inside her panties, Regina had managed to get Emma’s belt undone and had pulled down the zipper. Emma’s rough presses against her throbbing clit had been enough to speed up her own motions and had urged her to copy Emma’s example as she forced her hand beneath tight denim and soft cotton. She had trapped Emma’s body between herself and the house and they had found themselves humping the other’s leg and hand in a completely undignified way as they worked the other—and themselves—towards orgasm, trading kisses and bites and desperate moans.

Afterwards, she had sat in her den sipping neat scotch from a glass that shook in her soiled hand, and she had imagined every scenario when she would see Emma again. The only one that had come true was the overwhelming attraction she had felt towards the blonde who challenged her so and the inevitable backlash caused by her own fears. Regardless, sex had become pleasure-filled punishment and she had soon found herself taunting Emma just to get her to give in to their attraction. She wasn’t proud of the way she had dismissed Emma every time, but every time her mind had cleared afterwards, her fear and panic had overwhelmed her and pushing Emma away had been the only reaction she could find herself able to commit to. 

Now, though, she pulled Emma closer and the blonde’s words died on her lips as they pressed against Regina’s skin. Her hold on the brunette tightened, and Regina arched into the woman on her bed. 

“How about now?” She asked, and found her voice low with renewed desire. Emma’s eyes—already clouded—met hers as her tongue slowly dragged up cooling skin. “Are you thinking of fucking me now?” 

“Definitely…” Emma answered against her skin, and Regina smirked devilishly as she settled herself over Emma’s lap, still dressed in her bra and panties, the latter of which soon falling away from her as hands far more experienced than they had been that first time teased it off of her. Regina untangled herself from it and let Emma drop it to the floor to be forgotten as they stared into each other’s eyes deeply, a soft smile on their features as they got comfortable in each other’s space. Things had changed so much since that first time, but underneath it all, the deep desire that had always connected them glowed stronger than ever. When they were together, Emma wasn’t the Savior, and Regina wasn’t the former Evil Queen—they were just _them_ , together, and it was glorious.

Capturing Emma’s neck, thumbs brushing Emma’s cheeks, Regina brought their lips together gently, conveying her love and devotion for long moments before escalating the kiss. Emma groaned against her and pressed her closer, hands traversing the expanse of her neck, brushing against her spine and scratching lightly. Now it was Regina’s turn to moan, and she could feel Emma smirking against her lips. In a well-practiced move, she captured Emma’s wrists and shifted her weight, tipping Emma onto her back as she leaned over her, abdomen flexing as she used her position to keep a lightly struggling Emma down. 

“ _That_ look,” Emma husked breathlessly, eyes flitting over her face and Regina smirked, “…right there. That look where I can tell you want me—only me. There were entire days I lived for that look.”

Regina knew what Emma was doing—opening up, even if it was about something non-threatening—and she vowed to reward her properly for it. 

“Only you.” Regina promised and crashed their lips together, letting her mind get clouded as desire overwhelmed her. Emma rose up to press their bodies together as much as their position would allow and Regina hissed at the added pressure to her core—already damp behind lace panties that shifted deliciously as Emma’s hips pressed against them. Without conscious thought, Regina gave into the desire to roll her hips, and sharp teeth bit down on her lower lip as she did so, drawing a pleasure-filled gasp from her as her hips faltered a moment before finding their rhythm again.

Emma once more struggled against the hands holding her down and Regina released them, instead planting one hand firmly onto the bed to support her weight while she let the other traverse Emma’s side, then up to brush her thumb over a hardening nipple. Emma shuddered against her, thrusting her tongue hard against hers as they breathed in the thinning air between them. Regina was already panting, but Emma was as well—even if she weren’t, Regina realized she was safe to express her desire. With Emma, she always had been. 

Her musings distracted her a moment, and Emma took advantage of it with a passion, slipping hands that had been exploring Regina’s back to her sides and situating a leg between hers so she could roll them over. With a surprised yelp, followed by a pleasant laugh, Regina accepted the role reversal and reached out to pull Emma’s lips against hers again, kissing her deeply as Emma crawled on top of her, both scrambling to find a more comfortable position on the bed they shared. Emma’s leg once more pressed between hers, and Regina parted them a little wider to allow for the gentle press of rolling hips, shuddering as strong muscles connected solidly with sensitive flesh. Now Emma’s mouth was once more on hers, swallowing moans and gasps of pleasure, Regina let her hands wander over Emma’s back until she could cup her firm ass and press her down harder into her. The motion caused Emma to moan—more so when Regina brought her own leg up so Emma stimulated herself just as much as Regina every time she brought her body down onto Regina’s.

Long blond hair caressed her face, and Regina’s body felt on fire—more so when Emma cupped her face a moment before sliding her hand down over her neck and chest, and roughly palming her breast, massaging the sensitive flesh as she pressed down harder with her hips. 

“Fuck, Emma!” Regina gasped into Emma’s mouth as pleasure shot through her system like wildfire, burning away everything but her desire to feel and touch in return.

“I will.” Emma promised cheekily, and Regina couldn’t help but grin before reclaiming Emma’s mouth, guiding Emma’s hips down into her once more. This playfulness between them was new; it had started after they had acknowledged that what was between them was more than sex. Now they were in a relationship, they had gotten far more comfortable with each other, and there was room to take more time, to draw out the experience, to truly invest and not spent twenty minute lunch breaks fucking on a desk. Those had been wonderful minutes—obviously—but there was room for more now, even though Regina secretly hoped that one day, Emma would once more bend her over her desk, hike up her skirt and take her without much foreplay of any kind. They were that, too, but this deep connection they shared tonight was far more befitting the day they’d had. 

Giving as good as she got, Regina wrapped the leg not between Emma’s legs around her hip and freed her hands to scratch lightly up her back, tangling in her hair a moment before sliding under her arms and cupping breasts that Emma made available to her by raising herself up a little. With a deep moan and a hard downward grind, Emma accepted the touch and let her head fall away, burying it into Regina’s neck where she nipped and sucked at the soft skin she found. Satisfied by the reaction, Regina pinched hardened nipples and shuddered sharply when Emma gasped and bit down roughly on her neck, moaning deeply as her desire flared. 

She had Emma on her back in seconds, scrambling over her form to kiss first her mouth, then her neck and then hurriedly down to take a pebbled nipple into her mouth and suck just a little beyond gently. Emma fisted her hair and pushed her closer, moaning her name as her legs wrapped around Regina’s waist, rocking her hips up to get some friction where she really wanted it. Regina lived to make Emma this wanton. Everything fell away besides bringing pleasure to the woman below her, and she flexed her abdominal muscles as she rocked gently into her, leaning on her elbows as she cupped both of her breasts and alternated her mouth between both nipples until Emma’s grip on her hair became painful and her moans constant and desperate. Emma’s breasts were always so sensitive to her touch, and Regina knew she could win any power struggle by focussing her attention on them. 

Emma’s eyes were shut tight, her head tilted back, flamed by her beautiful curls on the expensive sheets. She was mouthing encouragements, wrapping lips around moans and curses, and Regina gave in to the overwhelming need inside of her, shifting her body so she could slide her hand down into the red panties Emma was still wearing. Wetness met her fingers from between her lover’s lips as well as from her panties, and she bit down on one of Emma’s nipples in approval, causing Emma’s hips to buck up sharply. She let the flesh in her mouth go with a loud pop and lifted her head, gently pressing a finger between Emma’s swollen lips to find her clit. 

“Sweetheart, look at me.” Regina instructed gently, finding her voice unsteady and filled with emotion. It took long seconds for Emma to comply as her hips slowed down their desperate thrusts upwards into the touch Regina refused to intensify, instead rubbing lightly and driving the blonde insane with need. Emma hated being denied pleasure, but Regina did it anyway—because when she finally gave in, Emma was reduced to a trembling mess and intensely grateful. 

“I love you…” Regina whispered and before Emma could reply, she slid deeply inside of her with a single digit, watching Emma’s eyes roll back into her skull as her body tensed, then sagged onto the bed, eyes once more falling shut as her hands fell limply to her side before fisting the sheets below her. Already, Emma’s walls were gripping at her, urging her deeper. Regina felt her own wetness seep into her panties and ignored the throbbing of her sex as she lifted herself upward to kiss Emma’s exposed neck, then bite gently down into it, jump-starting the woman below her. 

“Regina!” She cried aroused, hands coming up to push at her form. Regina lifted herself up a little with a teasing smirk as she continued her slow presses inside the blonde, but stopped as Emma sat up. With a raised eyebrow Regina let herself be pushed up onto her knees, allowing Emma to slide from under her and her hand from within the confines of Emma’s underwear—underwear that was quickly pulled off and discarded next to the bed. She observed Emma as she slid closer, pressing up against her as they both sat up on their knees. Regina suddenly felt her heart pounding and a panic that she did not understand settling in her gut.

Emma pulled her tightly against her, kissing her lightly until Regina mellowed in her arms a little, the anxiety that had built up at being stopped by the blonde slowly melting, although part of it lingered. Emma’s hands were making short work of her panties—pulling them aside so her fingers could press upwards and into hot wetness—and Regina found herself fumbling with her hands and settled on wrapping them around Emma’s neck as she swallowed heavily, both at her own insecurity and the pleasure that suddenly spiked through her body. Emma kissed her way to Regina’s neck and lingered there for a moment before pulling back to look at her, squinting slightly. She slowed, then stopped, her hand.

“Hey… hey, are you okay? What happened? Do you want to stop…?” Emma asked, worried eyes taking in Regina’s stiff form before withdrawing her hand completely and reaching for Regina’s hands as she sat back on her hunches. Regina allowed herself to sag as well, and tried to sort out her inner turmoil.

“I-I’m not sure.” She eventually mumbled, unable to meet Emma’s eyes. Emma lightly transferred the brunette’s left hand into her right so she could hold both with one hand, and used the other to lightly touch Regina’s cheek until Regina gave in and looked up with a sigh. Emma’s arousal had transmuted into worry and Regina found her heart clench painfully with emotions she did not understand.

“Talk to me.” Emma pleaded, and Regina opened her mouth to do so, but couldn’t find her words—at all. What _was_ wrong? Why was she feeling this… unhinged…? Emma caught the panic in her eyes easily, and smiled to indicate it was okay, that she understood. 

“Why don’t we lie down for a bit, okay? Let me hold you?” Emma asked, and Regina agreed, gratefully slipping under the covers and into Emma’s arms. She placed her hand on Emma’s chest, feeling her heartbeat slow as Emma gently scratched her back and dropped kisses into her hair. She took a moment to analyse her emotions, withdrawing into herself while still pressing closer to the understanding blonde, sliding her leg over both of Emma’s and pulling herself impossibly closer. It most certainly wasn’t the intimacy she suddenly felt herself rejecting—so what was it?

“I think… I got confused…” She admitted softly, and Emma kissed the top of her head again.

“Because I stopped you?” Emma guessed, and Regina hesitated a moment before nodding.

“I’m sorry.” She replied miserably. “I just… I…”

“Hey… hey, look at me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want or anything. It’s just me… you’re safe here—with me—you said that yourself.” Emma assured with a droopy smile as Regina lifted her head. Regina smiled, but felt tears pricking against the back of her eyes. Never once had she wanted to stop Emma from touching her—and now here she was, flashing back to times long past, with people long dead or out of her life. She shuddered and Emma brushed a lock of hair from her face, studying her intently.

“I do feel safe with you, I just… I think… I…” She stopped herself, frustrated by her lack of eloquence. She forced herself to examine her emotions—her reactions—but came up empty, regardless. Emma’s soft words drew her out of her thoughts, and she felt like coming up for a breath of air as she was pulled away from the darkness.

“I didn’t mean to stop you from touching me, Regina.” Emma explained gently. 

“Sometimes it can be fun to wind the other—or yourself—up and then cooling down a little as you focus on your partner.” Emma shrugged and smiled, guiding Regina’s head back to her chest. Regina settled easily, trying to relax her body as she listened and tried to find the source of her discomfort. “You’ve never just… fooled around in bed?”

“No.” Regina answered honestly, and felt Emma tense a moment. The blonde sighed and pulled her a little tighter against her. Regina lost the fight with her tears and let them slip silently onto Emma’s cooling skin.

“I keep forgetting.” Emma answered by way of apology. Regina shrugged, feeling her defences rise even while she fought them.

“It’s alright. It’s in the past. I simply found myself out of my element, and I froze. It will not happen again, and I apologize.” She stated, hating herself for dismissing her pain so easily. Infuriatingly—thankfully—Emma did not let her get away with the situation so easily.

“Drop the Mayor Mills routine, Gina. I know you better than that.” She said softly, and Regina sighed, sniffing to stop the tears—she failed. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for stopping something that makes you uncomfortable, even if it happens again and again. You don’t ever have to pretend with me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that this is new to you—sex, relationships. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I was just… enjoying myself and feeling free to play with you a little. I thought we were on the same page, but we weren’t so you had every right to stop me.”

“I feel like an idiot.” Regina admitted moodily, anger and self-hate overtaking her mind slowly, the darkness threatening to overtake her. When Emma rolled them over slowly, though, she allowed it with a sigh, lying flat on her back with her eyes towards the ceiling, forcing the tears not to fall by willpower alone. She refused to meet Emma’s eyes—Emma, who was obviously trying valiantly not to get frustrated. Throwing her a bone, Regina forced herself to speak. “Nothing happened, and yet I felt so _inexperienced_ , so out of my element.”

Emma sighed as she settled next to Regina, tracing slow patters on the skin of her abdomen as she stared down at her from the top of the arm she had propped up to support her head. Regina refused to look at her.

“It doesn’t matter if something big happened or not. You have the right to say ‘no’, everyone has the right to say no.” Emma explained, and suddenly, the puzzle pieces fell into place. Tears welling up again, Regina curled into a surprised Emma, who none the less wrapped her arm and body around her to cradle her into her as she let Regina cry. Regina burrowed herself to safety, surrendering to the painful epitome that scorched her mind.

She had never been able or allowed to say ‘no’. Not in any situation, be it sexual or platonic; she had never been able to say no—not with her mother, not with her husband, not with her mentor… once she had freed herself from their grip, she had vowed never to let anyone overtake her again—especially in bed. Here, with Emma, after this emotional day which had left her so vulnerable and emotionally open, she had given up that control—and when Emma had surprised her, she had suddenly flashed back to years long past, to abuse long buried, to pain long forgotten.

It took long minutes for the tears—old tears that should have been shed long ago—to dry. By the time they did, she became aware of Emma’s hand running gently over her bare back, of lips caressing her hair, of soft words that she could barely understand but which calmed her none the less. Sighing into the skin of Emma’s breast, Regina surrendered to the safety and support offered, and settled, wrapping an arm around Emma to pull her closer and brining her head up to press a light kiss on Emma’s jaw before the blonde dipped down to meet her lips. They kissed lightly, quietly, for slow moment and then withdrew. 

Regina untangled herself a little so they could look at each other as they lay down, noses almost touching as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes—eyes that gave Regina the courage to talk. She spoke softly of her revelation, of the pain still inside of her, of the insecurities that had come crashing down on her, and Emma listened quietly, offering support with her silence. She didn’t share details, beat about the bush about Cora, about Leopold, and about Rumplestiltskin most of all, but she told Emma about growing up powerless and filled with fear, about having her agency taken away again and again, and how she had suddenly felt like that again just now because she felt so close to Emma—loved her so much. Emma accepted every word and didn’t push. She just caressed soft skin, listened, and once Regina fell silent, she pressed their lips together for a soft, motionless, kiss meant to convey so many emotions that Regina couldn’t process them in the moment; she settled for cupping Emma’s cheek with a trembling hand and keeping their lips locked in a tethering caress that filled her aching heart with joy and love.

“Never again.” Emma whispered against her lips vehemently. “Never again will anyone hurt you like that. I promise, Regina, I will kill them before anyone makes you feel worthless ever again.”

Regina was shocked to find tears burning in fiery eyes when she met them, and smiled a smile filled with disbelief at the protectiveness she found in the words and the arms that wrapped around her. 

“Don’t even joke about killing, Emma,” She warned, a hand pressing lightly on Emma’s chest where her heart lay, but her voice held no venom. “…but thank you. Thank you for caring, for making me feel loved. I can take care of myself but… it’s good to have someone in my corner—having _you_ in my corner.”

Emma smiled and nodded, and they shared another kiss as they lay close together in the light of two small nightlights. Regina’s head was pounding and exhaustion threatened to overtake her. She had managed to scrape together the last of her energy when they had escalated into lovemaking, but now even those reserves were burned out. She couldn’t fight a yawn that had Emma smile.

“Time to sleep, beautiful.” She joked gently, and Regina nestled closer to her, laying her head below Emma’s chin and humming pleasantly when Emma wrapped her arms tightly around her, dragging her on top of Emma’s body a little. She felt so safe, so sheltered, and that was a very rare experience, indeed. She also felt lighter—freed, somehow, from a few of her demons. Was this why ‘good’ stayed good? Because they could work through the dark together instead of drowning in it? The thought didn’t find perch in her head. She wanted to answer Emma—thank her—but the best she could do was a tired huff as her body shook because she sunk into oblivion too quickly. The last things she was aware of were Emma’s hand, running over her back, and a softy whispered ‘you’re going to be okay’ before she sunk into oblivion for good.


End file.
